


Ella has a Hard Life

by Nebulous40



Category: Ella Enchanted - All Media Types, Ella Enchanted - Gail Carson Levine
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-11-25 20:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 60,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulous40/pseuds/Nebulous40
Summary: Starts at Chapter 21 - When Ella runs away from her Father’s wedding to avoid being noticed by Lucinda after seeing her father and Dame Olga’s gift of love from the mad fairy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a short direct quote from the book at the beginning of the first chapter to give context to the story.

Father was open-mouthed in horror.  
“It’s so romantic Sir P.,” Mum Olga sighed, entwining her arm in his.  
His face changed, and he chucked her gently under the chin. “If it pleases you, my dear, my life.” He looked wondering. “My love.”  
Olive climbed over my feet, trumpeting, “A real fairy!” She pushed her way to Lucinda.  
Well-wishers crowded around Father and Mum Olga, but few were so foolhardy as Olive. The fairy would soon be free to look about. I fled the room.  
It was too cold to hide outdoors. I decided to venture upstairs.  
The stair rail was an open spiral, perfect for sliding. I resisted a mad impulse to take a ride - into Lucinda’s arms, no doubt. I heard her voice and ran up the stairs. On the landing I opened a door and stepped into a dark corridor. Closing the door behind me, I sank down and leaned against it with my legs stretched out on marble tiles.  
There must have been footsteps, but I didn’t hear them. The door opened behind me. I tumbled back and found myself staring up at - Char!  
In my moment of gracelessness I tumbled back into his shins and caused him to fall forward over top of me. We ended in a heap of limbs and rumpled finery, his shoulder thudding to the floor amidst the drifts of my emerald skirts and lacy petticoats. He missed elbowing my thigh by mere inches and ended sprawled over my lap. I lay on the floor, gazing at a length of well muscled thigh in tight fitting black breeches and began to laugh.   
He attempted to right himself and managed to get to all fours, impeded by slippery green skirts and their helplessly giggling inhabitant.   
I attempted to stifle my laughter as he turned himself around and looked down at me, one leg still pinning my skirts to the floor, his hair flopping charmingly over his brow. One look at his face and complete state of disarray sent me into new peals of laughter which set him to chuckling too.   
Remembering the fairy a mere floor away I got myself under control slowly and as my laughter died away we slowly extricated ourselves from the sliding, entwining snare of my long skirts. The prince offered me his hand and pulled me easily to my feet, brushing dust of long years off of my skirt and attempting to smooth his hair and doublet into some sort of order.   
As he pulled a small dust bunny out of my hair his hand briefly touched my neck and I felt as if I had been zapped by lightning. I heard his breathing stop too and I looked up into his beautiful eyes. His hand, clutching the dust bunny, stopped its journey as if he had forgotten what he had been doing. The barest contact of the side of his hand to my collar bone freezing us both.   
Gently, as if in a trance, he pulled the dust bunny free from my curls and dropped it to the side then slowly his hand returned to my face. His touch hit me like a raging fire in my blood. His ever-so-gentle fingers traced the line of my jaw to my ear and my whole body lit up like a torch.   
“What are you doing up here?” he asked. Gazing at me in that disconcerting way, still touching my neck. His light touch traced slowly from my ear lobe back down to my collarbone before he removed his hand, almost reluctantly it seemed.   
My wits were scattered, I wasn’t about to tell him that I was running away from Lucinda, that could lead to a whole other line of questioning. My racing thoughts returned to the ballroom where I imagined her laughing and chatting with the guests, observing her handiwork on father and Mum Olga.   
“I was resisting temptation,” I told him, laughter returning to my voice as I struggled not to give away the joke. His gaze intensified and he grinned at me. I grinned back.   
“What temptation?” He asked. I noticed that I could feel his nearness.  
“Can’t you guess?” I asked. His smile grew broader and I wished he would touch me again. “The temptation to slide down the stair rail, of course!” He roared with laughter his eyes glinting merrily at the joke. He continued to laugh as he offered me his arm and motioned down the hallway.  
“Would you like the tour? My father grew up in this palace and said he spent most of his youth looking for a secret passage.” My interest was piqued. “Unless you would rather go back to the ball...” He hesitated looking down at me uncertainly. I placed my hand in the crook of his arm.  
“No, There is nothing I would love more then to tour with you.”  
We strolled down the dark, dusty hall and opened the first door that we came to. A medium sized bedroom with a looming empty wardrobe and large windows letting in the late afternoon sunshine yielded no secrets. I knocked on the walls and tapped my shoe on any suspicious looking floorboards. Char did the same but seemed to be distracted. Whenever I turned back to him after a fresh investigation I would see him gazing at me, smiling. I smiled back, his happiness infectious. I was tapping at the back of the wardrobe, leaning far into it when Char came up behind me.  
“Don’t fall in, I wouldn’t want to trip over your skirts again trying to come after you.”   
“Perhaps that is my dastardly plan.” I said in a dramatic evil voice, looking at him coyly over my shoulder. His smile faltered a moment, underneath it was a look that made my blood heat again before he laughed and backed away to examine the window frame.   
Deciding that the were no secret hideaways in this room Char again offered me his arm and led me at a sedate pace to the next room down the hall. We wandered this way, speaking of inconsequential things such as ogre hunting (from which he had just lately returned) and what would be the use of this mysterious secret passage.  
As we continued meandering from room to room I became less and less willing to release his arm in order to investigate. He seemed equally reluctant to release my hand. We reached the end of the hallway and several identical hallways stretched into the distance.   
“We will have to be careful not to get lost up here,” he told me seriously.  
“I put myself at the mercy of your sense of direction”  
“Well any of my men could tell you that is sometimes a little questionable, we should mark our route.” He quirked an eyebrow at me before tugging off one of the buttons on his doublet. I gaped at him, it was a perfectly carved roundel of ivory. Laughing merrily at my consternation he placed the button carefully a few paces inside the hallway we had just left.   
“I won’t have to slide on any banisters for your family to think I have lost all dignity.” I let out a snort of laughter.  
“Even naked you are more dignified than they are.” I blushed after I said it, inadvertently thinking of Char in a state of undress. I looked at him slyly out of the corner of my eye and noticed a bit of striped silk undergarment peeping from the hole he had made in his doublet. I blushed again, wondering what the rest of his underwear looked like.  
We explored until Char’s buttons were all marking crossways then stood at the apex of several unexplored hallways wondering where to go next. Not wanting to end our adventures early I let go of his arm and reached into my bodice, yanking free a small wooden button from the top of my chemise. placing it carefully on the tile of the hallway we had just explored. Char gaped at me then laughed uproariously at my gambit. We explored three more halls before coming to a back staircase. In the fading light of the hallway the open spiral looked enticingly foreboding and I swiftly reclaimed my hand before racing to the top ahead of Char. I struggled against the large, iron clad door which was stiff from disuse and held harder still by an unyielding winter wind on the other side. Char came up behind me and leant his strength to my efforts before the rust and the wind let us pass through onto an exposed causeway. We ran across to the shelter of a small tower.   
The inside of the tower was lined with gardening benches and stone seats, tiny trees in pots stood on the benches at regular intervals . Char guided me to a small stone seat warming my hands between his own.   
From here we could hear the sweet notes of the wedding music, a slow allemande. He chafed my hands then cupping them he breathed gently on them and his own. Electricity shot through me again as he looked over our joined hands into my breathless face.   
“I have a secret,” I said.  
“Will you tell me?”  
“I was hoping there would be a banister in here.” I giggled, he laughed too and shook his head.  
“You are like no one else that I have ever met.” He said wonderingly and let my hands go. He stepped closer to me and brushed a stray curl away from my cheek. I leaned into his newly warmed hand and the bench made a disconcerting thud and shifted slightly.   
I squeaked in dismay and swiftly got up, the bench thunking back into its original position, seated slightly out of alignment with its base. Char was laughing again.  
“I think it comes off.” He said chuckling and leaned over to take a look.  
The two of us managed to wrestle the stone lid off of the storage bench revealing a few tools and long forgotten detritus. Beneath a mouse eaten leather apron and a small wooden trowel a glittering pair of shoes were secreted in the company of a hole riddled pair of gardening gloves. When held up to the swiftly fading light they sparkled like gems and refracted a thousand tiny rainbows into the darkening room.   
I couldn’t contain a gasp of wonder at their beauty. I looked up at Char and enjoyed the awestruck look on his face as well.  
“I think they are made of glass.” He said holding them out to me. He wanted me to take them both but I misread his intentions and only grasped one. The other tumbled to the ground and as it fell I berated my clumsiness. But the shoe merely bounced and came to rest on it’s side on the cobbled floor of the tower.   
Swiftly I picked it up and examined it. There was no damage. I tapped my fingernail on the toe and a sweet clink of a fingernail on glass greeted me.   
“Try them on!”   
I seated myself on the edge of the open storage bench and began to untie the leather lacing of my slipper.   
Kneeling swiftly with a flourish and a grin he took over the work and had my slipper off in a moment. He took the first glass shoe from my hand and slid my foot gently into it. It fit perfectly. He did the same for the other foot then stood up, offering me his hands.   
“Try them out.”  
I didn’t want to stand in them, I was so certain they would shatter into a thousand pieces but his command didn’t give me many choices.  
I took his hands to take as much weight off the shoes as possible but they bent and conformed to my foot. I laughed in delight and took a twirling step with all of the hard-won grace of finishing school, I had to make up for my former clumsiness somehow.  
“A lady should not dance alone.” he said, perfectly anticipating my twirl and gathering me into his arms. His hand fitted to my waist and our free hands met. We stood much closer than I had when dancing with the girls and mistress at finishing school. I could feel the warmth coming off of him in the small chilly room and my heartbeat picked up. My cheeks staining with a blush.   
We danced and danced. When the orchestra stopped for a break we fell down panting on the bench, having restored its lid together. I noticed his eyes lingering on my décolletage and he blushed scarlet when he saw that I had noticed. I looked down and saw that the massacred end of my chemise had worked its way out of my bodice and its buttonless end was swaying free.   
“I’m sorry,” he choked and I laughed and laughed, stuffing the material back down into my bodice.   
“Manners mistress would have had a fit!”  
“Maybe you should have left it out,” he laughed in return. I could see he was uncertain still and laughing to hide his disquiet. I liked the idea that I disquieted him.   
Feeling bold and powerful I lifted my hand and poked my finger through the buttonhole in his ruined doublet wiggling it around and tickling the hard stomach underneath the silk.   
“I’m not the only one with their underwear showing,” I reminded him. He caught my hand with a surprised laugh and sat there gazing at me, smiling like a fool. Holding my fist in his he gently tipped it up to expose my wrist and slowly kissed it. I gasped, my smile gone, only fire in my veins and thoughts. His soft lips still on me he looked up into my eyes. I could tell he was judging my reaction, trying to see what I was thinking. He released my hand and I slowly lowered it.   
“Tell me what you are thinking.” An order! What was I thinking? Everything in my brain was bold and lascivious and incautious. But it was an order.  
“I was wondering what your undershirt looked like to have such stripes on it.” He laughed again, surprised and delighted.  
“What else? Tell me more.”   
“I was trying to decide how long my chemise had been hanging out of my dress.” He nodded gravely. His twitching lips giving away his suppressed smile.   
“Tell me everything.”   
“I…I was wondering what your lips taste like…” My cheeks were so hot they could have glowed. I was looking at my hands balled together in my lap, embarrassed. His hand under my chin gingerly raised my face and I felt him scoot closer on the bench. When my eyes met his, he was very close. Tenderly he cupped my cheek and his soft lips met mine. His breath was sweet and warm and his hand cradled the back of my head. When I came back to earth he was looking at me, his face warmed by the last rays of a long sunset.   
“Ella…” he breathed. “Come here.” I didn’t even want to resist the order as he pulled me onto his lap. He was warm and his well muscled thighs made a comfortable seat. He cupped my face in both hands and I twisted to face him feeling a large bulge in his pants resting against my thigh.   
“You are so wonderful, clever and beautiful.” He told me earnestly, gazing into my face and kissed me again, harder this time. His arm travelled around my back pulling me closer to him and I felt the bulge in his pants twitch as it pressed against me. I could feel my blood rushing down my body and pooling in my loins, my flesh aching and tingling with every movement of his thigh or mine.   
We came up for breath and he rested his forehead on my shoulder running his nose up and down my clavicle. His hand travelled slowly up and down my back.   
“I certainly never did that with my dance partners at school.” I said breathlessly and he chuckled into my shoulder. The heaving of my breath had caused the reappearance of the end of my chemise and Char tugged on it delicately with his free hand. I gazed into his eyes and they had darkened with a look I had only seen flashes of.  
“We should examine the damage to your chemise, I would hate for you to get in trouble with your maid. Let me see it.” Another order. He said it with a smile but his eyes were bold and hungry.  
“I would be practically naked,” I protested but I had already began untying my bodice. My incongruous actions had captured his attentions much more than my words. He thought I was teasing him!   
“I promise not to be offended,” he said laughing again with his hungry eyes. “I will show you my interesting striped underwear.” He began pulling open his buttonless doublet and the shirt underneath. The heated bulge in his pants twitched again as I pulled the laces on my bodice free as slowly as possible, trying to stall for time. My thoughts were jumbled, what was going to happen now?   
Still slowly working the laces on my bodice free I looked him in the face.  
“If I show you my ruined chemise you will think I am a loose woman and then we won’t be able to be friends anymore.” I said it firmly even though I was a little afraid. The finishing school had had an entire day long lecture on the importance of protecting one’s modesty and virtue. They hadn’t really elaborated on what that included but had many instructions on how to avoid ever taking off one’s clothes and how to discourage a man or husband’s indecent advances.   
The lace popped free of another grommet and my hand slowly began to pull the swiftly lengthening lace from the next hole.   
The prince looked at me shocked, his hair mussed from coming through the neck of his shirt which now lay on the floor with his doublet.   
“I would never think of you as a loose woman!” He laughed, the dark glint in his eye completely displaced by earnestness and good humour. “I want to marry you!” He looked shocked at his own words for a moment, gaping like a landed fish. I was shocked as well and stopped unlacing my bodice for a moment, staring at him, until a sharp stab of pain in my gut reminded me I was being disobedient.   
Deftly he picked me up in his arms, twirling me around before setting me on my feet. My half unlaced bodice sagged and his truly interesting striped undershirt conformed to his muscled torso. Swiftly he knelt at my feet as he had once already that evening and began working a small gold ring off of his little finger. When he got it off he presented it to me.  
“You are everything that I want in a wife.” He said staring up at me. “I think I’ve loved you since I met you at your mother’s funeral. You would make a wonderful bride and an unmatched queen.” I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. My complaints began again and I realized I had stopped unlacing my bodice.  
“Say something,” he pleaded. He looked so ridiculous in his underwear, hair mussed but also so beautiful and I realized that I loved him too.  
“I love you too!” Fell out of my open mouth, my curse taking over. He gave an exultant shout and lifted me in the air twirling me and kissing me. He set me down on my feet once more, I surreptitiously continued to untie my bodice as he put the ring on my trembling finger. I was elated! I was so happy I didn’t even notice that my lace had pulled free of my bodice entirely until my dress fell in a heap at my feet. My chemise ,made shapeless by its complete lack of buttons, hung around my arms leaving my chest exposed.  
I gaped up at Char whose face took on a new look of desire. “I’m sorry,” I said lamely. I covered my bare breasts with my arms.  
“I love you,” he reiterated. Slowly twining his arms around my mostly bare waist. “My wife to be.”   
I looked at the ring on my finger, my arm trapped between my bare chest and his silk clad one. “I suppose I am,” I said wonderingly and beamed at him. Completely content for the first time since my mother had died.   
He stood and kissed my hair and the nape of my neck, my shoulder. I groaned as a pulling sensation in my belly started. He pulled me closer to him and the bulge in his pants poked insistently into my belly, hot and twitching. I used the arm between us to create some space so I could look up into his eyes. They were hot with desire and inflamed me in turn. Boldly I undid the button on his silk underwear, then the next. He stilled, watching me, eyes burning into me like a physical presence. I undid the last button and pulled the undershirt free of his pants leaving his torso bare.  
“Do you want this? Tell me the truth.” His eyes bored into mine and all I could think about was the heat of his skin against mine and the tugging ache in my loins, the truth was I did want this and the curse left me no modestly.  
“Yes.”  
The word was like a dam breaking, he tore the remains of my chemise free and tossed it to the floor while pulling me close and kissing my neck passionately. He slowly kissed down my shoulder, pulling me closer still. My nipples, set erect by the cold of the tower, brushed against his well muscled chest and were tickled by the short tuft of hair he had there.   
Slowly, he knelt on the floor covered by the skirt of my discarded dress, and gently pulled off my pantaloons leaving me naked except for my stockings and glass slippers.   
“Lay down.” Obediently I lay down on my dress watching as he swiftly dispensed with his breeches and underwear, boots and socks. I stared as his erect phallus came into view. It was tightly pressed to his stomach with the force of his erection and curly hair hid the base. I had never been face to face with a man’s phallus before and I leaned up on my elbows for a better look.  
He knelt at my feet looking down at me with love and desire writ large on his face.   
“Ella, I love you.” He picked up my ankle, the sock rolling down swiftly without the help of the ties on my pantaloons. He kissed the inside of my knee where the sock had abandoned it and I groaned laying back down with a whumpf of escaping breath. He laughed.  
“You like that?” He said playfully, kissing a little higher up my thigh.  
“jdgumkwu azzoogH” I said laughing again. He looked at me smiling with a bemused expression. “Kiss me!”   
He crawled up my body laughing and dropping kisses on my stomach and sternum. Each nipple was kissed next causing my body to tense and my groin to buck under him. When I looked at him again he kissed me full on the mouth, slowly massaging my lips with his lips and tongue. I opened my mouth so that I could feel his tongue with my own. I could feel his hard length pressing against my thigh, warm and smooth. He nudged my thigh aside so that he was kneeling between my legs. Impulsively I pulled him down onto me and flung my legs around his waist. I heard the glass shoes clink together as my ankles locked behind his back.   
“Ella,” he whispered in my ear, “Are you sure you want this, tell me the truth.” I looked him in the face, seeing all his love for me there and smiled.  
“Yes, I love you and I want to marry you!” I told him simply. He shifted slightly and I could feel the hard blunt tip of his cock nudging my sensitive folds. Hot skin against slick wetness. I wasn’t sure what he would do with it but I trusted him.  
Slowly he pushed his hard rod into me, grunting with the effort of keeping himself together until I felt a sharp pinch in my genitals. It was nothing compared to the pain of disobedience though and I ignored it. When he was fully inside me he looked me in the face, ecstasy and disbelief on his features. I felt filled, the ache in my loins magnified a thousand fold into a deep need to move and feel his length inside me. I shifted and his phallus pulled out of me a bit, I shoved him back to me with my heels, jamming him back inside me. He groaned loudly, or maybe that was me.   
Slowly he drew himself back out then a little faster pushed back in. We were both panting all I could see was the look of almost painful pleasure on his face, his mouth a perfect “o”. My mind was fixed on a swelling building sensation in my belly. Urgently I shifted my hips to meet his, joining with him again as he began to move faster. In and out he slid his hard length. I gripped his hips with my legs and pulled him closer with every thrust. My taut nipples brushed his chest, filling me with tingling pleasure.  
I was whimpering now, my legs trembling as he thrust into me. His forehead pressed into my shoulder.  
“I’m almost there,” he grunted, “Feel it with me Ella!”   
I didn’t even have to try, I was right there with him. My insides clenched and clenched again. My hips bucked against him involuntarily as he stiffened against me before falling limp across me. We both groaned and lay there panting.  
Slowly he lifted himself off of me, pulling free from me. His eyes were searching mine and I smiled up at him.   
“That was incredible!” I whispered and relief and happiness lit up his face. He kissed me again tenderly, hugging me to him.   
We lay there on the floor for some time, listening to the distant orchestra and each other’s calming breaths. The cold air of the tower showing steam over our naked, sweated bodies. I gazed at the ring he had given me, a simple gold band with the shape of crown inlaid in gemstones. It was a little big for my ring finger, I would have to be wary of it falling off.   
Eventually Char sat up looking at me. “Are you cold?”  
“Only the naked bits,” I grinned up at him, suddenly a bit shy of my nudity. He laughed.  
“Me too.” He looked down at himself noticing the bloody mess we had made of his loins and lower torso. Looking quickly back at me, suddenly concerned, “did I hurt you badly?”  
“Not badly, I suspect I will be a bit sore. Unless that is your blood?” He looked shocked and then back at himself, blushing.  
“No, not mine.” He wrestled a dark handkerchief from the discarded wads of clothing and wiped himself mostly clean then offered it to me. I surreptitiously did the same, noticing white goo all over my thighs and loins mixed with the blood. By the time I had cleaned myself he had his breeches and socks back on. I slipped into my ruined chemise and pulled my dress back on, tying it securely so that my chemise wouldn’t make another appearance. We kept looking shyly at each other furtively, gauging each other’s reactions. He sat on the floor to pull on his boots and I walked up to him, smoothing his hair into place. He laid his cheek against my thigh, looking up at me.   
“I’ve been dreaming about you…about this,” he confessed hesitantly. “I can’t wait to marry you and spend every day with you.” I smiled down at him.  
“You are by far my most handsome suitor.” His face fell.  
“You’ve had other suitors?”  
“My father was going to marry me off to an old man to make some money but I think that will stop now that he has married Mum Olga. Besides I’m betrothed.” I grinned at him and he smiled back. Standing, he lifted me in his arms twirling me about.  
“Yes, you are all mine.”


	2. Chapter 2

As I stood in the encircling warmth of my new love’s embrace I heard the sounds of carriages pulling up outside. A sure sign that the celebrations were coming to a close. It was almost completely dark out but from a tower window I could see Mum Olga and Father bidding farewell to their guests by the light of the open door and the lanterns on the castle’s walls. Lucinda was also there and I shuddered seeing her, even from this distance. Char came up behind me and snaked his strong, warm arm around my waist.  
“That woman standing next to Father’s new wife is a fairy,” I said conversationally. Even though I didn’t feel the least bit casual about the information. He noticed the tension in me immediately and looked out to see the beautiful Lucinda.  
“How can you tell,” he asked curiously as we watched the guests trickle away.  
“Tiny feet,” I joked. We were well out of range of seeing the expression on her face let alone her feet under her gown.  
“You would know,” he laughed, “you have the smallest feet I’ve seen on a grown woman.”  
“So you’ve been looking at a lot of women’s feet then?” I quirked an eyebrow at him. He blushed.  
“Well, no, but…” I laughed and slipped out of his encircling arms hunting for my own slippers, discarded when we had found the magical glass shoes.  
I put on my own slippers and picked up the glass shoes. “Do you think I can take these, we don’t know who they belong to…”  
“As far as I’m concerned they are yours,” he said firmly. “Like I said, I can’t think of too many women who they would fit anyway.” He glanced again outside and let out a gasp.  
“What is it?” I asked urgently, coming up behind him.  
“The fairy just…disappeared!”  
“Oh, good, my family will probably start looking for me now that she is gone though.”  
Char gave me a quizzical look but didn’t say anything else only lending me his arm and guiding me through the darkening castle.There was just enough light to see by and it didn’t take long before we stood on the landing above the entrance.  
Char took my hand in his and looked down at me.   
“I want to do this properly but things got…away from me tonight.” He looked sheepish. “I’m going to talk to my father then I am going to come talk to yours. We will do this by the book. Well…as much as we still can.” He gave me a lopsided grin.  
“I’ve never been one to follow the rules,” I said smiling up at him. I pulled the ring off my finger and offered it back to him.  
“No, keep it, it is yours. There is no one else for me. Just…maybe don’t wear it out yet.” Another stronger grin. I put the gold band into my purse and pulled the strings snuggly. I went to walk down the stairs but Char pulled me around for a last kiss.  
“Well my bride to be,” he said after we broke apart, “shall we shatter our dignity and slide the bannister together?”  
“Of course my future husband, monarchs must have common goals.”  
I grinned as he flew down the banister with the ease and style of long practice. Grinning I followed before he had even reached the bottom. As I rounded the last bend of the beautifully curved staircase and came into the full light of the entrance hall my new family entered from the courtyard. I flew into the prince’s outstretched arms and he spun me in a circle before noticing our stunned audience. Swiftly I hid the shining glass shoes in the folds of my gown and giggled nervously. Char laughed as well, interspersing congratulations and apologies to my Father and stepmother with gales of laughter.   
I think that the strain on our consciences for our earlier tryst made everything funnier because nervous giggles became belly bursting guffaws that would be silenced only to start up again at the slightest provocation. We two laughed far longer than was comfortable and my family traded embarrassed looks and tittered uncertainly at us.  
Char finally extricated himself from the awkward encounter, promising to visit soon as he sidled out the door, bowing to my father.  
I still stood at the bottom of the stairs, forgotten by my family as they finished the business of bidding the prince farewell and began the business of preparing to leave.  
Mum Olga began to pout about being cold, I didn’t pay any attention.

I managed to wedge myself into the coach between Hattie and Olive. Having gotten over her pretended sulk Mum Olga turned to father, cuddled under his arm, she looked up at him coquettishly.  
“Sir P, I know that we are only just wed but I really must know,” she took a moment to flutter her eyelashes at him, “exactly how rich are we?” She lifted her eyebrows at him and leaned forward, offering a long view of deep décolletage.  
He looked away from her, casually twitching the window dressing aside to look at the darkness outside, “Precisely as rich as we were before, my heart.” I began to grit my teeth, I knew what was coming.  
“And how rich is that, my dove?” She raised a slightly smudged eyebrow at him, eyelashes still fluttering madly.   
My father looked down at her and said with all the honey he possessed in his salesman’s soul. “However much you have is all there is my gem.”   
She froze, her eyelashes stopped their mad flapping and she took on a sickly purple flush. Stiffly she turned to look at me, her frozen smile turning vicious. Suddenly she heaved herself across the coach at me, setting the whole vehicle to rocking. Gripping my purse she tore it from me, emptying the contents on her lap. My comb and handkerchief fell out and I held my breath, waiting for my newly acquired gold ring to join them but it never did. She took my comb and stuck it into her own reticule before lurching across the coach again making a grab at my bracelet.   
My father managed to disengage her grasping hand, speaking quietly to her. He banged on the roof of the carriage and the vehicle slowly rolled to a halt. He got down from the coach, leading Mum Olga a short distance away. I could heard her wailing and sobbing.  
Hattie turned to me with a sneer, “You poor dear, how are you ever going to live?” Olive had grabbed my purse from the floor of the coach and tucked the whole thing into her own purse, handkerchief and all. I ignored Hattie quickly scanning the seat and the floor for my lost ring.   
“Look at me when I am speaking to you!” Hattie shrieked at me and I glared at her. She settled herself back into the seat. “How are you going to make it up to us for taking you in,” She purred. “I will have to think of something.” She smiled at me with contentment. She stopped speaking, I stopped looking at her.  
At length Mum Olga and Father re-entered the carriage, she was tear stained and he looked sullen. No one said anything for the rest of the trip to our new home but Hattie’s look of smug happiness made me feel cold right to my bones. 

When we arrived my pitiful trunk and I made the long trek to a dark guest bedroom. A polite but impersonal maid turned down my bed and left me alone in the room. I missed Mandy, she wasn’t going to arrive until tomorrow with the remains of our belongings from our old home.   
Despite the dreary prospects afforded by my step family and this new, foreboding home I went to sleep dreaming about Char speaking to his father about his plans for our life together. I imagined that I would wake up to my father telling me had promised my hand to the prince.

I awoke early, dressing hastily. I was determined that I was going to search high and low until I found my ring. It wouldn’t do for the prince to arrive to ask for my hand only to find that I had lost his ring. I began with the stables, walking quickly and silently I found the carriage snug in its stall and unlatched the door. Hurriedly I launched myself into the passenger compartment and searched the whole thing. I pulled up every cushion and crawled through the entire space. No ring.   
The next place it could be was in my purse. Olive had made off with that so I need to find Olive. I made my way into the kitchen, noticing that Mandy hadn’t arrived yet from the old house, and asked a servant where Olive’s rooms were located.   
I managed to find my way there after a bit of trial and error. Olive’s door was still closed for the night, the servant I had spoken to had warned me that she was likely not awake yet. I knocked softly and listened carefully, no noise from within. I tried the door knob, it opened easily. A large bed stood in the middle of the room, dark curtains encircling it. The curtains hadn’t been closed all the way on the windows and the morning light came in, weakly illuminating the room. Olive’s dressing table was littered with what looked like trash in the dim light.   
I pushed the door mostly closed behind me and crept to the dressing table. Upon closer inspection the table was covered with trash. Buttons, bits of rich cloth, gold foil and pieces of expensive paper littered its top and spilled out of the drawers. Anything that might be considered valuable was lovingly collected and left to spill over her vanity. I sighed in frustration and quickly scanned the table for my purse or hers.   
A loud snort came from the canopied bed and I froze, listening for all I was worth. From the bed a sleep clouded voice called, “Stoke the fire, I’m freezing.”  
“Yes, ma’am,” I called quietly in my best meek servant voice and quickly stoked the fire. Turning back to my search I saw the edge of a purse poking from underneath the vanity. I quickly crouched behind the vanity, the edge of it hiding me from anyone looking from the bed and opened the purse. It was Olive’s purse. Inside my poor reticule was crumpled, the broken strap wound around it. I swiftly pulled it out and looked inside. It was empty.   
I dumped out the rest of the contents of Olive’s purse. It had a gilded knob off of a bureau, a tiny silver wing that looked like it had been broken off of a statuette, a single gem studded earring, several unstrung pearls of different sizes and colours and a loose green gemstone that still had a single jeweller’s claw stuck to it with glue. I pawed through the junk treasure and found my handkerchief. Lifting it up my ring bounced out the bottom and I sighed with relief.  
My relief was short lived though because I heard the sound of Olive getting out of bed. Swiftly I shoved everything back into the purse including my purse and handkerchief, they were worthless compared to the ring and Olive didn’t even know it existed. I quickly kicked her purse back under the vanity and walked out the door to the musical tinkle of Olive making water in her chamber pot. 

I nearly ran into a servant going into Olive’s room to complete the task I had just finished. I moved around her and didn’t acknowledge her presence, I knew that my aloofness wouldn’t save me from servant’s gossip no matter what I did so I scurried away and hoped for the best. I stopped by the kitchen, partially to grab a roll to quench my starving stomach and partially to see if Mandy had arrived yet. She hadn’t so I took my roll and headed back to my room. The bed had been made up and the curtains opened but none of my belongings had been unpacked, I suspected that as soon as Father left I would be enjoying a new lifestyle as a servant in this great house. I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my day. I had never been the type to sit around and wait for princes to show up and rescue me from horrible fates. That being said, I would really enjoy his company at the moment, if only to save me from tedium.   
I didn’t have long to wait, I heard the familiar sound of men and horses approaching the house and ran to the window. Not only had Char arrived but Mandy and our remaining possessions from the old house were coming down the lane as well.  
I quickly checked my appearance in the mirror, noting with irony that I never would have bothered to check a day ago, and ran for the door. I threw it open and almost ran right into Hattie.   
“You noticed the prince coming up the drive I assume,” she said without preamble.  
“I did,” I said with barely contained hostility.  
“You won’t be seeing him, you are not allowed to leave your room.” I glared at her as she stood just outside my doorway. With an inarticulate screech I swung a fist at her but she was too far outside my room and I couldn’t reach her.  
She turned on her heel and walked towards the entrance hall, gloating at me over her shoulder.  
I ran back to my window and watched as Char offered Mandy a hand down from the cart. He was such a gentleman. I wanted to weep but instead I went over my imagined victory once Char had saved me from this place.   
I watched him carry a bundle for Mandy into the house and thought about how I could escape my curse simply by being too noble to be ordered to do anything.   
When they entered the house I began to stamp loudly around my room, hoping that the prince or Mandy would come up to investigate. After a while I gave up, no was coming up here, Hattie had probably told them there were dancing lessons going on up here or something. I stood at the door willing myself to step into the hallway and freedom from my curse, sweat breaking out on my face and my stomach cramping but I couldn’t set a foot outside the door.   
I went back to the window, looking out disconsolately at the drive. I imagined marrying Char, no one would dare give me an order then. Except Hattie…she would use my curse to her advantage. What if she told someone else?! A whole kingdom’s worth of horrible, grasping nobles would have me at their mercy.   
I could tell Char, he could guard me from people using my curse against us. I would ask Mandy to countermand my mother’s order to tell no one about my curse as soon as Hattie let me out of this room.   
I continued to wander the logical pathways and possibilities that could arise with my new position as queen of a country and came to an inescapable conclusion. I couldn’t marry Char. My curse would curse both of us and our kingdom. I could be ordered to give things away to nobles and other countries, I could be ordered to kill my own children…or Char.  
I paced the room, full of anguish and wanting to run and scream and rend my clothes. Instead I curled up on my bed and wept. I loved Char and I would have to make him leave me.   
I stayed that way for some time, not even getting up to see the prince leave. I didn’t want to see him if I would just have to break both of our hearts. Lunch time came and went and Hattie had not returned to release me from my room. I was too spent from crying and despairing to leave my bed. Eventually I heard a knock on the door and sat up and wiped my face before letting them in.  
My father was outfitted for travel and strode into the room.  
“I will be leaving earlier than I had planned,” he said ignoring my rumpled appearance. “My wife needs time to adjust her expectations to our new life and I would use that time wisely to better our prospects.”   
“They aren’t going to treat me well,” I told him sullenly.  
“I’m aware, Eleanor, but we all have to make sacrifices for the good of the family. I will never be able to afford a dowry for you if I do not make some money and I would not expect my good wife to provide one for you.” His tone softened a bit when he looked down at my tear stained face. “We will come through this and you will learn to get along with our new family, perhaps better if I am not here.” He nodded to himself as if he had convinced himself of something and strode out the door. I watched from the window as he rode away, cart and men trailing behind him. My last line of defence had just abandoned me to my fate.


	3. Chapter 3

Hattie forgot about me in my room until past dinner time. My stomach was growling loudly and I felt sick with hunger by the time she let me out with a curt “You can leave now”. I ran past Hattie and immediately went in search of Mandy and found her setting the kitchen to rights with all of her gear from our home. She gave me a bone crushing hug and swiftly set about making me an omelette.  
I told her about spending time with Char during the wedding but left out the part about our more intimate activities. I told her that he had come to see me today and that Hattie had made me stay in my room. She listened patiently and when I was done she held me close and petted my hair, saying soothing things. I didn’t tell her that I was in love with Char or that he had asked me to marry him, I couldn’t say it without crying and I had cried enough today. I managed to stuff some omelette in my mouth before Hattie caught up with me and found me there. She made me leave my meal unfinished and come into the drawing room.  
Mum Olga and Olive were waiting in the drawing room for me, seated on the ornate, high backed Chesterfields that littered the room. I came in trailing Hattie behind me and sat down opposite them in an overstuffed wing chair.   
Mum Olga looked at me with her huge eyes bugging out slightly and screeched, “I did not invite you to sit!” I calmly looked at her and stayed where i was.   
Hattie came up behind my chair and sweetly purred, “Stand up in mother's presence, Ella.” I fought it, I fought it so hard my nails dug into the padded arms of the chair and I broke out into a cold sweat but moments later I was standing.  
Mum Olga looked thunderstruck. “Ella will be very obedient.” Hattie crooned coming out from behind my chair and flopping into it. “Tell mother how obedient you are, Ella,” she said with cloying sweetness.   
“Very obedient,” I growled, glaring daggers at all of them.  
“I have discovered that Ella is always obedient,” Hattie smirked from her seat in my former chair.  
“Why is that?” Mum Olga asked narrowing her eyes at us in speculation.  
“You mean she will obey anyone?” Olive yelled in outrage, “Ella, why did you obey Hattie and not me?” She wailed.  
“Olive, don't be silly, of course she obeys you too,” Hattie scolded in an exasperated tone, “you must order her and not ask and she will obey.” Turning to her mother she said, “I have no idea why she does it.”  
“Ella, I called you here because it is time you began earning your way.” Mum Olga stood and paced towards me. “I didn't want to upset my dear husband but you simply cannot live in this household without contributing.” She wandered around me, appraising me from several angles. “You have no dowry so I can't simply marry you off, you will have to earn your keep here.” She wandered past me and settled herself back on the couch pulling on an ornate bell rope to summon a servant.  
“Please ask all the staff here immediately,” she told the maid who appeared a moment later. Within minutes the whole household was in the drawing room lining the walls and standing stiffly and formally for their mistress. I made a sidelong glance at them all trying to pick Mandy out of the crowd.   
“This is Ella, she is our newest member of service, who will be responsible for her?” She looked around the room expectantly. A large woman in a sweat stained dress with arms like a blacksmith stepped forward.  
“I can always use more help in the laundry.” I watched as a crew of equally sweat stained young woman cringed back from her, one had the bright red beginnings of an impressive black eye. I thrust out my chin, if this was my fate then so be it, I wasn’t afraid of some bully. From the back of the room I heard a familiar voice.  
“I’ll take her on, mistress.” Some of the servants in the front cleared a space for Mandy to come through. “She is as stubborn as a mule but I will make you a capable servant of her.” My heart was full of love for Mandy as she deftly manipulated me into her kitchen and out of harm’s way. She barely ruffled a single feather but made it clear that she would brook no arguments nor would she allow me to be openly abused. I was newly in awe of her; whether she used her fairy powers or not, she was formidable.   
Mum Olga swiftly dismissed most of the staff back to their tasks except for two brawny manservants who she asked to move my belongings into the servant’s quarters. Even though I had been expecting this it was difficult not to despair as they led me into darker and narrower parts of the house, up back stairs and through small, lightless corridors. We eventually reached my new room, which was cold and only barely large enough for the pallet and wardrobe it housed. With my trunk added, it was positively claustrophobic.  
Unable to bear the thought of curling up in that dark hole, still hungry and alone, I went and found Mandy’s quarters off of the kitchen. She was curled up in bed, a few crates still half packed around her room. I knocked on the open door, she looked up from her book at me then motioned for me to come in. We didn't speak about that night’s events, instead we thought up delicious menus for the next week and planned our cooking around teaching me new skills. When we began to doze she scooted over in the bed and made room for me, snuffing the lamp. In the dark all my hurt and anguish came back like a deep dark wave and swamped me. I wept silently, feeling very sorry for myself and Mandy rubbed my back until we both fell asleep.  
In the morning I awoke in Mandy's bed, she had long since gone to work from the smell of bread baking. I hauled myself back to my room and washed up. I pulled on my simplest dress and tied my hair back in a kerchief then made my way back to the kitchen. The house staff was stirring despite the early hour and I was soon engaged in preparing breakfast for an army of maids, laundresses, stable hands and staff of all kinds. The laundress with the bruised eye was there and it had turned from angry red to purple-black in the night. I thanked all my lucky stars for Mandy's intervention.   
As the sun came up and the breakfast crowd began to thin out Mandy sent me to be mentored by the housekeeping staff. She said that she had plenty of folk to take care of dishes and I should expand my knowledge as much as possible, handing me a fresh buttered roll for my own breakfast. In my mind I think she was hoping Char would see me if he came back today. He would never notice me if I was hidden away in the kitchen. Even if I couldn’t marry him, perhaps he could find me a way out of this particular abusive situation. One of the maids leant me an apron and we went through the house cleaning out fireplaces and laying new fires. Her name was Gerda and she was kind enough and incredibly competent. I had never known there was such an art to fire laying. I learned quickly because Gerda, though gentle, used a lot of orders in her teaching.   
“Never let the soot get on the floor, that is what the drop cloth is for.” or “Always set the kindling like this. You won’t get as many sparks this way.” By the end of the task each grate held a crackling new fire and all of the dust and detritus was cleared out, the fixtures polished and shining. My knees hurt and I was filthy. We trouped back to the kitchen, tools and ash bucket in hand. When we entered the kitchen Mandy had me wash up and put on a clean apron before helping her prepare breakfast for my step family. Once the service staff had taken over and started serving Mandy and I were able to sit down and eat as well. The roll she had given me, though delicious, had not stood up to the rigours of my morning and I was ravenous. Tearing into fresh bread and perfectly cooked eggs I listened as she spoke about the servants from the old house and how they were getting on and other unimportant things. Most of them had had no trouble finding positions in other households and several of the younger servants had decided to get married and settle down instead of finding a new position. Mandy predicted a crop of babies in the summer. As we were enjoying our breakfast some of the stable hands ran in from outside.  
“What’s afoot,” called Mandy after them as they trotted by.  
“The prince is back,” he told her over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.   
My bread and egg fell out of my suddenly paralyzed hands. Mandy looked at me and said, “Get under my bed, we have to hide you from that miserable little harridan.” I ran to obey and Mandy swiftly cleared our plates from the table and began clearing up. Moments later Hattie came storming into the kitchen.  
“Where is Ella,” she demanded of Mandy.  
“I’m not sure milady, she was setting fires this morning and I haven’t seen her in some time,” Mandy lied easily. Hattie stomped her foot and ran out of the room. We waited, listening carefully. Until we could hear her stomping gait carry her upstairs and away. Mandy called the all clear and I struggled out from under her bed. “Better get out the back before she comes back,” Mandy grabbed her own cloak of the pag and handed it to me. “Maybe you can talk to him on his way out.” I gave her a swift hug and ran out the back door.  
The stables and the gardens were on this side of the house but the prince’s conveyance would be at the front. Stealthily I walked as close to the house as I could so Hattie couldn’t see me out a window and crept up the side. A small, understated carriage was standing in the drive with two matching horses still tethered to it steaming in the frigid air. A footman and a driver were standing to the rear of the carriage sharing something from a flask. Staying close to the house I crept up beside the front staircase, the front edge of which got very near to the carriage. Silently, I sidled up to the side of the carriage opposite the driver and the footman and very carefully opened the door. How was I going to get in without the whole thing swaying and alerting the servants? I stood there uncertainly for a moment then very slowly crawled into the carriage on my hands and knees. I did my best to keep my weight evenly distributed to all corners of the carriage as I crawled in ever so gently. The carriage was immaculately maintained and none of the springs creaked or shifted with my weight. Once I was all the way into the carriage I turned slowly and pulled the door closed behind me. Very carefully I stood up in the very center of the foot space and sat gingerly on the bench.   
I could hear the footman and the driver talking from my seat and listened intently.  
“I wonder how long he will wait in there this time?”   
“Who can say, I’m glad you brought a nip, I thought I would perish from cold yesterday.”  
“Forethought.” One of them chuckled and I heard a satisfied belch from the other.   
“Who is this girl he’s after? Have you heard anything about her?”  
“I think it was supposed to be Sir Peter’s daughter.”  
“Ella? The girl from the ogre hunt?”   
“You heard that story too? I thought it was made up at first.”  
“Yeah, I heard it. The soldiers from that mission were in the Arm and Pheasant the other day and they swear the whole thing is true. Can you imagine, an ogre taming girl.” More laughter.  
“I wonder if the cook will let us come stand in the back.”  
“I bet she would, the prince probably won’t come out of there for hours.”  
I heard the crunch of gravel and their voices receded. I hoped, ironically, that Char gave up on me earlier than he had yesterday. I snuggled into the padded seat and promptly fell asleep.

I don’t know how long I slept but the next thing I knew I heard masculine voices and the coach swayed as people jumped up onto it. The door opened and Char was there, he was head and shoulders into the coach before he saw me in the gloom of the interior. I beckoned him in, holding my hand up in a shushing gesture. He got in and swiftly pulled the door closed behind him.  
“What are you doing in here,” he whispered sitting down on the bench next to me.  
“I needed to see you and I couldn’t do it in there.”   
“Why? What has happened? Why didn’t I see you yesterday?” He looked so confused and hurt. The coach lurched as it started driving.  
“My family was very angry with me that I wasn’t at the wedding and confined me to my room. I’m so sorry you had to wait so long…” I was cut off abruptly by his fervent kiss. One strong hand cupped my cheek and the other strayed to my waist, pulling me to him.   
“You are frozen! How long have you been out here?” He asked when we finally broke apart.  
“I don’t know, I fell asleep.” I looked at my lap sheepishly and he laughed. He banged on the roof and leaned out the door.  
“Pull off the road and go stand away from the carriage.” He yelled to his men. They obeyed with alacrity, the carriage swaying alarmingly as we pulled onto the verge of the road and they hopped off.  
“Is something amiss your highness?” The driver asked after hopping down.  
“No, I just need some time to think before we go home. Please walk down the road aways, I just need some time to myself.” He waited until they were out of sight of the carriage and turned back to me. Dark desire shot between us like an arrow and suddenly he was atop me, pressing me into the cushions. He was kissing my neck, stroking my thigh and I was kissing him back, winding my leg around him and pulling him close. I pulled the shirt out of the back of his pants and slid my icy hands up his back and he gasped in surprise then laughed. He knelt down on the floor of the carriage between my knees pulling me to the edge of the seat and wrapped his arms around me.   
“Oh, Ella.” he laid his head on my bosom and held me close. I ran my fingers through his hair and held him near to me. “I talked to my father,” he began then stopped and gave a great sigh.  
“What is it?” I looked down at him, his beautiful face gazed back up at me, his freckles standing out starkly in the weak light from the window.   
“I am leaving for Ayortha tomorrow,” he looked miserable. I felt miserable.   
“How long?”  
“A….a year.” His eyes searched mine, looking for my reaction but I was too busy thinking to react. With a year away from me perhaps he would meet someone else and be happy and I would never have to break his heart after all. My heart would still be broken but it was broken already and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was never going to be able to marry him, maybe anyone.  
“Father has said that if I still want to wed you in a year then I have his blessing but he will not forgo this incredibly important diplomatic tradition for the sake of a year between two young people.” He said this last in a gruff voice that wasn’t his own, imitating his father I supposed.  
“Alright,” I said, surprising us both. “I love you Char and I will always love you. A year is no time at all.” His face broke into a beautiful smile and he gave a laugh, pulling me closer to him.   
“How did I find such a wonderful woman as you?” He asked gazing at me with love. I kissed him right on his beautiful, smiling mouth. He slid his hand under the hem of my dress and ran his hand slowly up my leg, still kissing me fiercely. He got to the top of my stocking and his hand continued its journey past my knee and slowly up my thigh. I could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin material of my bloomers and it made me shiver with pleasure. He broke our kiss and giving me a mischievous grin he threw my skirts up over his head.   
Muffled through the material of my skirts I heard him say, “I guess I will have to give you something to remember me by,”  
“What are you doing under there,” I giggled, slightly mortified and he pulled one stocking down then the other. I felt him kiss the inside of my knee as he untied the bow on my bloomers. Both of his hands were on my knees now and he slowly ran them up my thighs, warmth and tingling sensation spread in their wake as all of my hair tried to stand up at once. I felt the urge to close my legs but my knees just hit him in the ribs. I felt that expectant ache deep inside and I could feel beads of moisture running down the inside of my thighs. His hands reached the top of their long slow trip up my thighs and one finger ran across the damp spot on my bloomers, pressing the damp material against me and teasing me. I could feel my pulse there in my heated skin beat against his finger as he slid it up and down the wet spot. A different sensation now as hot breath collided with the wetness there. I wriggled, panting and laughing and moaning and he attacked my slit with his tongue, pressing at me and making me writhe.   
He fought his way free of my skirts, his face sweaty and pink but smiling.  
“It is hard to breathe under there,” he laughed. “Lean back.” I obeyed of course and he pulled my bloomers straight off of me. He rolled my skirt up over top of me and gently gave my naked slit a slow lick before pressing a finger into it very, very slowly. I gasped, the sensation was unbelievable and I screwed my eyes tight shut concentrating on the feelings thrumming through my body at every touch. “Tell me what you like,” he said running his finger slowly in and out of me.  
Blushing bright red over my whole body I mumbled, “Lick it again,” he laughed and complied, running his tongue over my swollen flesh as he continued to move his finger in and out of me. I was sweating in the cold air of the carriage and completely taken over by the pleasure he was evoking in me.   
“Tell me what you want,” he said. This time I was slightly less mortified as my desires tumbled out of my mouth.  
“I want two fingers,” he obliged, introducing his middle finger slowly. As he did his forefinger crooked inside me and I shuddered in pleasure. “Do that again!”  
“This?” he crooked his two fingers up and electric molten pleasure ripped through me, tides of goose flesh running up and down my skin.   
“Yes,” I panted and he continued to tease my insides with his questing fingers.  
“Ella, you are going to make my pants burst.” I giggled and he laughed too.   
“Take them off then,” I said boldly, flattening my skirts so that I could see his face. He carefully pulled his fingers from me, eliciting another shudder of pleasure and swiftly stood up. He began to fumble at the ties to his breeches. “Wait,” I said and he looked at me questioningly, “let me do it.” I steeled myself and put my trembling fingers to his fly. I managed to untie his pants freeing him to the cold air of the carriage. He seemed monstrously large at such close range.  
“I never knew you were so adventurous,” he said looking down at me.   
“I am an ogre tamer remember,” I looked up at him through my lashes. “What would you like?”  
“Put it in your mouth.” he whispered as if he was holding his breath. I looked up at him and wrapped my shaking fingers around him and slowly put my lips around the end, pulling more of it into my mouth as I watched his face. His mouth was open and he was barely breathing. I put as much of it in my mouth as I could, gently sucking then pulled it back out, sliding my lips and tongue down the length of him. Firmly I pushed him back in my mouth as far as it would go and slid my lips down the length again. He groaned as I pushed it in my mouth again and as I pulled it out of my mouth he grunted, “stop, I can’t take much more of that.” I freed him and looked up at him. He sat on the opposite bench, “come here.” I stood and went over to him, “do you want me to put it inside you?”  
“Yes,” my thighs were already slick with the wetness of my arousal and the thought of his slick length inside me made my knees shake.   
“Sit on it then,” he leaned forward and lifted my skirt and I knelt on the bench on either side of his thighs. He grabbed himself so that he was pointing straight up and I slowly sank onto him. The feeling of him gradually filling me up was mind boggling. I sat for a moment on his lap, completely impaled on him and just felt the fullness. He groaned and I felt him twitch inside me. Grabbing me around the waist with his big, strong hands he lifted me slightly before dropping me back down. It felt so good, I pushed myself up with my thighs and my hands on his shoulders and came down again, shoving him back inside me. He began to buck his hips and lift me, we found a rhythm. On we strove, pushing each other higher and higher, we were rocking the coach so hard that I was sure the servants would come running at any moment but I just didn’t care. We were both gasping and sweating.  
“Get up and turn around,” he said and I obeyed, lifting myself off of him and turning to face the other seat. He stood up behind me and whispered in my ear, “bend over.”  
I leaned forward and placed my forearms on the other seat, behind me Char picked up my skirts and ran his warm hands down my thighs. He pushed into me once more, pressing straight to my core. I reached behind me and grasped his thighs, pulling him further into me, I could hear his ragged breathing picking up again as he began to move inside me. My legs were trembling slightly and slick wetness coated my thighs. Char pushed himself into me again and again.   
“Keep going,” I urged him, my voice high and breathless in my own ears. I blushed again to hear myself sound so wanton. I pushed backwards into him, increasing his pace and focused on that most sensitive part of myself as it was stroked by his striving. I felt the urge to touch myself and moved my hand to feel my hardened nipples through my blouse. One of my hands strayed to my core where he pounded into me and my fingers elicited more pleasure as I touched and caressed my feverish flesh. I felt a tightening in my middle and around him as my legs and loins began to quiver.   
Char was panting my name, “Ella, oh, Ella…” and then he stiffened, thrusting himself deeper into me still. My quaking continued, shuddering around his hard, filling length for a moment after he stopped moving. He leaned against me for a moment and I enjoyed our contact then he sighed with contentment and pulled himself free. I felt suddenly as if I had wet myself, my shaking had coalesced into a deep shudder and when he pulled out juices ran freely down my legs.   
My chest constricted and I had to fight an overwhelming urge to begin laughing and weeping at once. I suppressed both urges with an effort and turned to look at him.   
The carriage was not meant to stand in and Char was particularly tall so he was hunched over oddly, his breeches pooled around his ankles and his legs were pale and bare. My urge to laugh won out upon looking at him and I flopped down on the seat and giggled. He gave me a lopsided grin and gathered his pants back up, tying them back in place.   
“No blood this time,” he said it straight but looked at me questioningly.  
“No, I suppose not,” I said looking at my hand still glistening with goo from its adventures. I wiped it on the inside hem of my skirt where it was still damp from dragging on the ground.   
“I suppose I have sullied your virtue,” he said shyly looking up at me with concern on his face.   
“Do you think so?” I said, anxiously. “I think you can’t sully my virtue if you are going to marry me.”   
“I thought virtue had something to do with children,” he said uncertainly.  
“Oh, that,” I scoffed, relaxing. “I know that people can’t have children unless they are wed.” He seemed unconvinced so I elaborated, “once you marry someone then you are able to have children, it doesn’t happen before then.”   
“Do you think so? Because I have seen some farm animals in the spring do something like what we just did…” he stopped because I was laughing, “what?”  
“Have you ever been to a horse’s wedding?” I giggle some more, “or for a sheep?” His uncertainty and concern slowly faded and he smiled at me.   
“I suppose I would be invited to see my horse wed, wouldn’t I?” I laughed again. He came and sat down next to me, gathering me close to him. He looked down at my face and smiled, “Your face is covered in cinders, did you fall in your fireplace this morning?” I laughed, lighthearted despite the memory of my ongoing slavery to my step-family.   
“No, I was reminded of our adventures looking for secret tunnels at the old palace and thought perhaps there would be a passage out of my room to escape and come see you.”   
“And there was?” He asked, thunderstruck.  
“No, of course not, I sneaked out the kitchen.” He laughed then.  
“And you left the cinders in for decoration?”  
“Yes, I thought you would enjoy them.”  
“My little Cinder-Ella,” he said fondly before kissing me again. “Shall I have my men drive you back to your house?”   
“Oh, no. I will walk, the longer I’m gone, the less I will have to put up with Hattie.”   
He grimaced at me, “she is...singular,” he said politely.  
I began to gather up my discarded clothes, restoring my stockings and bloomers before slipping on my shoes.  
“You will write to me while I’m away?”   
“Of course I will.”  
“You won’t entertain any other suitors?”  
“None of them could compare to you, of course not. You will have to tell me of all of your adventures in Ayortha because I can’t be there with you.”  
“I will. I will think of you every day.” He kissed me lingeringly before I opened the carriage door and hopped out.   
I sneaked out the back of the carriage as he went out the side facing the road to go retrieve his men. I set out through the woods surrounding Mum Olga’s estate and made good time back to the house. By the time I got there the light was beginning to fade, I must have slept longer than I thought, my Prince had been very determined to see me after all. I quashed that line of thought before I could become too melancholy and sneaked in the kitchen door. I hung Mandy’s coat from the peg and turned around in time to see Olive come in through the kitchen door.


	4. Chapter 4

“Everyone has been looking for you, Hattie says you are in big trouble.” Olive began blandly in her too-loud voice.  
“I’m sure everyone could manage for an afternoon without me,” I shot back, resigned to my fate and hoping Olive would just go away.   
“They were just mad you left,” she crossed the kitchen and plopped onto a stool near the heat of the cooking fire. “I’m hungry and dinner won’t be for hours, make me a cake.” She whined at me. I sighed and began gathering cake ingredients.  
Twenty minutes later I was whisking up my finished batter into a cake tin for baking while telling my fourth fairytale when Mandy came in from outside. Her face fell when she saw what was going on but she just bustled in and began the household’s dinner. A large fresh-caught fish gleamed as she unwrapped it, she must have gone to market especially to find it. A few more kitchen staff wandered in around us and started tasks at Mandy’s direction. I began to help with dinner as we waited for Olive’s cake to finish baking but she was forever asking for more stories. It was getting harder and harder to talk over the kitchen noise and my voice was wearing thin from the endless talking. I finished a tale about an Ayorthan maid and a troll and before she could order me again I asked her, “Which tale did you like best?”  
“King Midas, he had all the gold in the world, I wish I had all the gold in the world.”  
“Don’t you think it was sad when his daughter was turned to gold?” I asked.  
“No, a whole girl is a lot of gold. Do you have any gold?”  
“No, I barely have any money at all,” I said, dreading where this conversation was going.  
“Give me your money,” Olive said, a greedy light filling her bland face.  
“There really isn’t much,” I grated through my teeth as my curse took hold.  
“I want it! Give it to me,” She hollered and the kitchen stilled. I walked stiffly to the stairs not looking at anyone, Olive following me, calming now that I wasn’t resisting her demands. I took her up to my room and carefully extricated my little coin purse from the bottom of my chest. I just gave her the whole thing, she opened it and took out my three silver KJ’s. Carefully she examined each one, bit it and counted them back into the purse three times.  
“Can we go now? Your cake will burn if we don’t go get it.” I wheedled, trying to get her out of my room.   
“Oh, okay.” She turned and left my room, leading the way back to the kitchen, my coins tucked neatly away in her pocket. I followed, trying not to cry, it had been a very long day.  
Mandy had kindly rescued Olive’s cake from a fiery death and set it on the counter to cool by the time we returned. Trust Mandy to save a cake from the oven while dinner preparations were in full swing. The service staff was coming in now, getting ready for the meal.   
Nancy the serving maid came in to take a stack of plates upstairs and nearly ran into Olive who was standing in the way in the middle of the kitchen. “My lady Olive, your lady mother is looking for you,” she told her as she hoisted the heavy stack of china. Olive looked at her blandly then wandered out the door. There was a nearly audible release of tension as she left and the staff was better able to navigate the kitchen. “ Stupid cow,” I heard Nancy hiss under breath as she headed for the stairs.   
“What a waste,” I sighed looking at the cake.   
“Ice it and we'll serve it for pudding,” Mandy said, looking over at me from her spot near the stove.   
I was just adding some beautiful sugared violets to the cake when Nancy came trotting back in. “Olive’s told her ladyship that you're back, she wants you up there right away.” I sighed, placed the last violets and washed up before heading upstairs.   
Mum Olga and Hattie were in the sitting room with Olive gossipping about this lady and that duchess. Olive was bored and was picking at her nails and dropping the bits on the floor. I took a deep breath and went in. I stood awkwardly beside the couch, Hattie's order about standing in her mother's presence still holding me. Mum Olga looked up at me, “Where have you been?”   
“Outside.”  
“This whole time?” she demanded.  
“Mostly, I went in the stables and the chicken house.” I lied. “Mandy says I should learn several areas of service so that I am more useful to you.”   
“And Mandy thinks you'd make a good milk maid!” Mum Olga laughed and Hattie tittered along with her. “I can see why she would think so,” Mum Olga said with a sneer of distaste, “barely a day of service and you already look like a filthy peasant.”   
“Tomorrow you will wash the floor of the front entry after you have laid the fires and helped make breakfast. Your more... eclectic serving duties will have to wait. I am having a party tomorrow to distract me from my love’s absence, it was supposed to be in three days but my beloved was called away early.” She pouted absurdly. “He takes such good care of his family, travelling so far from us to make us rich.” She actually got dewy eyed thinking about it. She promptly remembered the rest of us and snapped, “I expect you to be in the entrance hall with hot water and lye by the time I'm finished breakfast and I will personally see that it is done right. Now go.” She waved her hand at me in dismissal and I left gratefully.  
I went back to the kitchen to help with cleaning and start the servant's dinner.   
It was late by the time the last dishes were done and I made my way up to my cold, tiny room. I was exhausted and lonely, I hauled my magic story book up onto my lap. When I opened it I was treated to pages and pages of embarrassingly bad poetry from Char's diary. I giggled and blushed my way through several pages before falling asleep. 

Morning came all too soon with Nancy knocking at my door. I dressed groggily and headed down to begin my day. I helped with breakfast, laid fires and was in the entrance hall with a bucket of steaming water and a waxed pouch of lye when Mum Olga came from breakfast. I took a small spoonful of lye and added it to the bucket, Mandy had warned me not to add too much because it would burn my skin. I began to scrub the floor while Mum Olga watched.   
“No, no, you must add more lye,” she declared once I had reached the halfway point of the hall. She took the sack and dumped a large amount in the water. “Now start over, the floor near the door still looks dingy.”   
“The floor near the door looks dingy because it is worn from people walking on it.” I thought, but I gritted my teeth and began again. My skirts were soaked through on the front and my hands were red and cracked by the time I was done, the water was grey tinged faintly pink with my blood. My knees were bruised and swollen and I limped back to the kitchen. Nancy and Mandy were there and Mandy was horrified at the state of me. Nancy told me about how she had been tempted to dump the bucket over Mum Olga's head while Mandy tended my wounds. Both agreed that Mum Olga was horrible and I should go up to bed. I went to bed and slept until hunger pangs woke me.   
I dressed and went back down to the kitchens. Service was in full swing, Mum Olga must have had quite a few guests because the kitchen was humming with activity. I stayed out of the way and stood in the entrance to the pantry watching the well ordered chaos. Behind me something moved and I jumped about three feet in the air. A large, fit, dark haired man was standing in the pantry behind me eating a winter apple. He had broad shoulders and his curling hair was gathered in a tail, his skin was dark as if he spent a lot of time in the sun and weathered, crinkled around his eyes and mouth. He wore a short beard and mustache.   
“Aren't you a sweet little thing,” he said, looking me up and down. He looked predatory and my mouth went dry. I wasn't used to rough men looking at me that way and my usually quick wit deserted me. “You're the new girl her ladyship called us all in for aren't you? You looked like a lady then, not so much now though.” He sneered at me unpleasantly. “Her ladyship seems quite concerned with you for some reason, I wonder why?” he tapped his finger to his lips in mock seriousness. “She hauled me and my men away from our work this afternoon to ask about where you were yesterday.” I caught my breath.  
“And what did you tell her?” I tried to look disinterested but I couldn't quite manage. My mouth was twisted in distaste but my eyes were watching him far too closely.  
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Another sneer and something darker. He took a step towards me and I took a step backwards, running up against a heavy wooden shelf filled with crockery next to the door. He stopped, grinning, and bit his apple again. Chewing thoughtfully, “what would you give me if I told you, pretty girl?” I was desperately hoping he and his men hadn't given Mum Olga too much information, maybe that was why she had been so horrible today.  
“I don't have anything to give you…” I felt uncertain but I firmed my resolve. “If you had told her anything important she would have punished me, you aren't going to fool me,” I turned away from him and looked out into the chaotic kitchen. I barely stifled a squeak as he came up close behind me and grabbed my hip, whispering in my ear, “we told her you were out buying veg from the market and came back later than you thought,” his fingers dug cruelly through my dress into my hip bone, grinding me back against him. I could feel his warmth against me through my clothes, an awful parody of my prince's caresses. I could also feel him straining against his britches as he ground himself into my bottom. “We didn't tell her you got in the prince's carriage and rode off with him into the woods.” I tried not to gasp both from his fingers’ bruising force and the secret. “I'll keep my mouth buttoned too but you should come visit me in the yard. Don't tell the cook, or us lads will get something on her too.” He gave my rear a quick fondle and a swat before pushing past me into the kitchen, deftly nabbing a hunk of cheese and bread before sauntering back into the yard.   
I was in shock, no one had ever touched me like that except Char, and never without my permission. Clearly I had had protection by being a lady that I could never have imagined. He was right though, I couldn't bring Mandy into this, I would die if she had to leave me too. Before long the last dishes from Mum Olga's dinner party had been hauled upstairs and I came out to begin cleanup while Mandy put the finishing touches on the servant's supper. I was elbow deep in wash water and grease when Nancy came down, she had just served my cake for pudding.   
“Dame Olga says the fire's going out and you need to go up and fix it.” She wouldn't meet my eyes, but I could feel her pity as she looked at the piles of dishes and giant wet stain on the front of my dress. I sighed and removed my apron, trading it for a dry one. It almost covered the wet, greasy spot. I rolled my sleeves back down, grabbed my wood bucket and tools and hobbled up the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

I dragged my battered, exhausted body upstairs, barely noticing the sounds of a small chamber orchestra and many laughing people. As I neared the ballroom, I could smell the delicious food Mandy had prepared for the gathering mingled with heavy, expensive perfumes. My stomach growled audibly and I stopped for a moment outside the oversized entranceway. I set down the tools and wood and pulled off my kerchief, swiftly wiping my face with it before tying my hair back once more. There was nothing I could do about the greasy water slowly seeping through my fresh apron from my sodden skirt and my dress sleeves were both damp and smudged with charcoal from the fire tools. I sighed and collected my tools before straightening my back and walking into the ballroom.  
I stayed near the wall, swiftly crossing the space. I refused to hobble in spite of my swollen, bruised knees or look at my feet like I was ashamed of myself. I was Sir Peter’s daughter and a prince was in love with me, I would not skulk!   
Mum Olga was waiting for me. Even though I knew she would do something to me, I was hard pressed not to flinch when her obnoxious voice soared across the room like a falling whip. “Ella! Not before time you lazy wench!” A skinny man with a large nose and a tiny mustache at her table guffawed at her words. I turned to Mum Olga and set down my tools before dropping a perfect curtsy. I managed to make my obeisance while making it seem like she was the one who was below me before gathering my things and continuing to the fireplace. One of Mum Olga's guests snorted at my willfulness and I heard several comments about me putting on airs. I could practically feel Mum Olga's rage building that I wasn't bowing and scraping so she could show off for her guests. I laid out the drop cloth in front of the fireplace and set aside the decorative grate before getting on the floor, with a care for my damaged knees. My knees hadn't liked my curtsying and the certainly didn't like my kneeling.   
“Are all your servant's so rude?” cawed an unpleasant nasal voice from the table.   
“She isn't a servant, Dorelda, she is Sir Peter's daughter,” said a rail thin woman with a huge nose.  
“Isn't Sir Peter a peer of the realm though? Didn't you just marry Sir Peter, Olga?” the nasal voice called across the table.   
“Yes, Dorelda,” Mum Olga told her with a sigh that said this woman was not quick to understand things, “but Ella has no money or prospects and Sir Peter wasn't able to pay for her care so she is earning her keep.”  
“Besides,” put in the skinny man, “if there is a single member of the nobility that Sir Peter hasn't cheated out of half his income, I’ve never met him,” he sniffed.  
I realised that I recognised the man vaguely from my brief foray into my father's wedding. I wondered idly where Hattie and Olive were. I had finished brushing out the sodden mass of wet sooty mud from the fireplace - obviously someone had poured their drink in the fire to facilitate this encounter - and had begun laying a new bed of kindling when I realised that the skinny, big nosed man was standing over me. I had stopped listening I supposed and hadn't noticed his approach.   
He stood between me and Mum Olga's table of guests and I noticed that my disinterest in them had fostered an equal disinterest in me. Mum Olga was pouting about something and her friends were cajoling her, trying to improve her mood.   
“Do you know me, girl,” he asked quietly.   
I looked up at him boldly and said, “should I?”   
He looked offended and hissed, “I am his majesty's treasurer, you would do well to remember it.”   
“Alright,” I looked back to my task, carefully towering small logs over the kindling. I didn't see his wind up but I definitely felt the result. With his whole skinny frame behind it he backhanded me across the face so hard I sprawled across the floor. Mum Olga and her guests didn't even look up from their inane discussion at my surprised cry.   
“Respect your betters,” he said calmly as he shook out his hand. “You will come to my rooms tonight and tell no one. Olga clearly cannot manage you, she will thank me when you learn some manners.” A cruel light was in his eyes as he looked down at me expressionless before turning his back on me and returning to his seat at the table.  
Slowly I dragged myself off of the floor and finished lighting the new fire. I could feel my left eye blackening as my vision on that side swiftly diminished. Tears ran down my left cheek unchecked as my assaulted eye watered continually. I gathered my things and quickly walked out of the ballroom without looking at Mum Olga or the guests. When I reached the doorway I nearly ran into Hattie. She was leading Olive and a group of five young men and women who looked at me with barely disguised disgust as I quickly stepped aside.  
“Curtsy, Ella,” Hattie ordered. I swept her a peremptory curtsy, not putting down my tools. Hattie rounded on me with a sneer, “curtsy lower, Ella.” I did so, feeling my bruised knees wanting to give out on me. I managed not to wobble, not looking Hattie in the eye, maybe she would let me go if I looked meek enough. Hattie looked satisfied out of the corner of my good eye.   
I turned to go, edging around the crowd of young peers but Olive wanted in the fun. “You let everyone eat my cake!” She screeched in her too-loud voice. “I only got one piece.”   
In my best meek servant voice I said, “I’m sorry, my lady.” I calmly stood by the doorway, neutrally waiting for them to let me go and did not react. Olive stood there like she was waiting for me to say something but Hattie was already moving on, I guess humiliating me in front of these people wasn't fun when I wasn't showing my humiliation. Olive and I stood there in the entranceway together, her jaw shoved out at me aggressively and I just stared her in the face.  
“Come on Olive, she's no fun,” Hattie called from halfway across the ballroom. Olive glared at me once more before joining the others. I held my battered face high and used every ounce of grace that I had to carry me away from the ballroom. 

When I returned to the kitchen all the servants were at table, sharing a hearty stew, talking and laughing. The man from before was nowhere to be seen. All the spaces near Mandy had been taken up, it seemed she had become very popular in the short time we had been in this household. Her kindness and Mum Olga's favouritism were having an impact on everyone's attitudes towards her.   
Unexpectedly a flash of irritation and jealousy went through me, how could Mandy give other people attention when I was so miserable? I fought the feeling down, recognising it for the selfish, entitled feeling that it was. One of the girls near Mandy was the tiny woman with the black eye that worked in the laundry. She certainly had as much need of comfort as I did.   
I gathered up a large bowl of stew and a hunk of fresh, dark bread and seated myself at the end of the table across from Nancy. She was chatting with a footman next to her but when she looked at me she gasped and leaned towards me, resting a cool hand on the swollen flesh of my eye. “Who did this?” She looked grim and dipped her napkin in a jug of iced water and handed it over to me to hold on my face.   
“One of Mum Olga's guests, it isn't important.” I shuddered internally remembering that he had ordered me to visit his room tonight. He hadn't even told me where he was staying. I suddenly had a vision of wandering down the halls of Mum Olga's manor and opening random doors, trying to find that odious little man. It was vaguely reminiscent of my adventures with Char during my father's wedding which made me sad. Was that only a few days ago?   
Nancy watched my face go through a kaleidoscope of emotions and I watched her little round chin firm with stubbornness.   
“It was Lord Gow, wasn't it?” She watched my face closely, narrowing her eyes at me. I had no idea what the skinny man's name was so I shrugged, shoving a hunk of soup softened bread into my mouth. “Describe him,” she ordered in an exasperated tone. I did so, trying not to talk with my mouth full or move my jaw too much. It was starting to swell as well.   
“Definitely Lord Gow. Don't go near that horrible man!” I sighed with relief, I wouldn't have to go hunting him this evening after all.   
“Lord Gow has a horrible reputation.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice, the footman and I leaned in too. “One of Lady Vienna’s servant's was beaten black and blue by him when she went in to turn down his bed, five months later she was let go because she turned up pregnant!”   
“Well that couldn't have been his fault,” I said matter of factly, “her husband must have done it.”   
Nancy and the footman just looked at each other then back at me. “What are you talking about?” Nancy said, “she had no husband.”   
The footman talked over her with a laugh, “did you think babies only happen when you're married?”  
“This is some of that noble-bred nonsense.” Nancy huffed, “have you never seen an animal mate?” She asked curiously around her giggles.   
I gaped at them, completely at a loss. None of us noticed Mandy standing behind Nancy.   
“What on earth are you two filling the girl's head with!” Nancy and the footman both got a cuff to the side of the head and the laughing ceased as if it had never been. I looked around and noticed that the rest of the staff had gone back to their duties and chores. Nancy and the footman quickly hurried out of the kitchen, forgetting their half finished dinners.   
Mandy turned her glare on my but it was quickly replaced with a look of concern as she took in my bruised face. “Oh, what happened to you?” She pulled my cool napkin away from my eye and hissed with anger. She bustled around the kitchen and gathered together some salves and tonics. I sat there feeling sick, trying to digest the information I had just received. Char had been right, he had sullied my virtue. Maybe I was pregnant! Completely engrossed in my own thoughts I gasped when Mandy touched my swiftly bruising eye and jaw with a cold salve. I glared up at her.   
“How are babies made?” I almost shouted at her, an accusing tone in my voice I hadn't expected. She wouldn't look me in the face, gently smoothing the salve onto my brow bone and down my cheek. I pushed her hand away and glared up at her, “answer me!” I growled.   
“Oh, sweetling. Sir Peter was very firm that none of us talk to you about such things. He believes that young women who do not know anything about it are more likely to make a better match when they wed.” She looked at me and sighed, “I suppose your prospects aren't helped by being a scullery maid anyway.” Another sigh, “It is much the same as animals, the male comes up behind the female and sticks her with his rod then several months later, she births young.” I nodded, I wasn’t a fool, given the information it made sense. I felt so reckless, what would happen to me now?   
I wanted to tell Mandy but I was afraid of what she would say. I was afraid that I was now a fallen woman. I couldn’t marry Char because I couldn’t bring myself to put him in danger but what if I was pregnant and was going to have a child. I had to marry someone or be like the beggar women that sometimes drifted through town with their scrawny children with giant eyes and huge stomachs. I shivered convulsively. I needed to think.   
Mandy had finished rubbing the salve on my eye and was clearing the dishes away with the ones I had begun already. I got up and pulled heated water off the hearth to begin washing. We finished washing up in silence, maids pulling in the dirty dishes from the party upstairs at regular intervals until the guests had gone to bed. I had plenty of time to think but I was panicked and my mind kept running in the same circles. I could marry Char, I would be endangering Char, I could try to marry someone else, I could hurt whoever I married, I could stay unmarried, I would have a child and no husband, Mum Olga would kick us out, we would starve, was I even pregnant? How could I find something like that out? The whole thing was so overwhelming, how could I have been so stupid, I am not a dumb person! Through all this whirling thought a few ideas stuck out: I could not marry Char but I would have to marry someone, preferably someone I hated. I began to weep into the scalding wash water, imagining my sad and lonely life, imagining having to break Char’s heart and watch him marry someone else. Mandy was sweeping the floor, not trying to break me out of my funk. She probably assumed I was worried with childish things like how she had kept things from me, not the very adult worries of making plans to care for a child.   
I began to formulate plans, firming my resolve and wiping away my tears impatiently. I would stay with Mum Olga until I had to leave. With her constant guests I might be able to find someone to wed and with the type of people she favoured I would certainly not care if I was ordered to hurt them. I would have to act quickly. If I was going to marry someone else I would have to tell Char that I wasn’t going to marry him. That gave me pause, I hated the idea of hurting him. I sighed. I knew I was never going to be able to marry him even if I hadn’t gotten into this situation.   
Perhaps I could wait to hurt him for a bit, it would take me time to find someone else to marry. I could hold onto him for a little bit longer. I knew I was just deluding myself but I also thought that I would be living on the happiness from imaging being with Char for the rest of my life.   
I was washing the long table that the service staff ate at when Mandy interrupted my thoughts, “Who hit you, love?”  
“Lord Gow,” I said without turning to look at her. I heard her hiss like an angry cat. Apparently she had heard of his proclivities too.   
“I don’t think you have to worry about him too much, love. He doesn’t usually bother noble ladies.” I turned to look at her with incredulity on my face. “I suppose you don’t truly fit in that category at the moment though.” She looked grim, her halo of wild, frizzy, grey hair was patted flat on one side as if she had be rubbing it anxiously.   
She came up to me and petted my hair like she had when I was a child. “Just be careful,” she said worriedly, “your father has made many enemies among the nobility. Some of them might try to hurt you to hurt him. Just...be careful.” She sighed again.   
She was worried about me and there was nothing I could do to soothe her. I had already been hurt by Lord Gow and he wanted to hurt me again. I was probably pregnant with the child of a man I couldn't marry. I was a slave in my own step family's house and they took pleasure in causing me pain and had made it clear I was unwelcome. I was being blackmailed by a stablehand whose name I didn't even know. I couldn't possibly soothe her and be truthful. Worst of all was the curse. There was nothing I could do about it and any of these problems could have been solved by being free of it.  
I was never the kind of girl who felt sorry for herself though so I tried to soothe Mandy. I told her I would stay away from Lord Gow and that my knees and hands didn't hurt from washing the floor this morning and that my eye would be as good a new in no time. I lied with my smile and seeming indifference and goodwill. I did such a good job convincing Mandy that I halfway convinced myself. When I left her to go to my bed I didn't think about all the terrible things, I thought about Char and how wonderful it would have been to marry him and have children with him. I thought about the baby I might be carrying and how wonderful they would be. I thought about the short time Char and I had spent together and dreamed of waking up in a bed with him.   
When I got to my room I pulled my aching body into bed and hauled my magic book in with me. The first pages were not a story but looked like diagrams and notes from a doctor's journal. It was a long list of symptoms of pregnancy. I read it with fascination, it would give me a much earlier idea than a giant rounded belly whether I would be having a child or not. The next pages were a story about a young, unwed woman and her daughter who made a life for themselves in a village as fishers. I'm sure I could learn to fish. It was very comforting and I nodded off, dreaming of a lifetime with Char.


	6. Chapter 6

It still seemed like darkest night when Nancy came to rouse me from bed. She had brought me a skirt and blouse of Dame Olga’s dark livery to replace the sodden, stained and greasy clothes from yesterday. I donned them quickly then examined myself in a tiny, warped pocket mirror I had in my chest. There was definite swelling in my cheek but my eye could open, probably thanks to Mandy’s ointment. The whole left side of my face, however was vibrantly colored in purple and yellow. I sighed and followed Nancy downstairs.   
Gerda, feeling that I had become proficient enough, agreed to split the rooms with me and we began setting fires room by room, leap-frogging each other down the long, dark halls. I had a strange sense of pride that Gerda felt confident enough in my abilities to leave me to my own devices.   
We began the next hall, I was still not familiar with the manor and I would have been lost without Gerda’s guiding candle, spreading flame to all the sconces as we made our slow way down the halls. I gently eased the door open and moved assuredly into the dark bedroom, my feet quiet on the thick carpets. I knelt down to sweep out the ashes and suddenly my scalp was burning as a hand took a hard grip on my hair. Bending backward I managed to get my feet under me before that firm grip dragged me across the floor. My bum fetched up against an ottoman and I was flung across it, my breath leaving me with the force of the fall. Through the tears in my eyes I saw Lord Gow looming over me in the darkness. I began to try to right myself, my skirts were thrown up above my knees and I did my best to shove them down at the same time. I saw a candle flare in the darkness and suddenly I could see Lord Gow, his back to me, setting a lit candle on the mantle.   
“Stand up,” he said without turning to me. I did so, hauling myself upright. As soon as I had gained my feet I made a sprint for the door, leaving my fire tools where they lay. I only made it a few steps before Lord Gow’s low growl reached me. “Stop.”   
He had moved quickly to intercept me but, of course, he didn’t need to. I stood still, many feet from the closed door and clasped my hands in front of me, trying to stop their shaking. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t want him to see me struggle with my curse. I saw the edge of a richly brocaded robe drag by my feet as he walked around me. A low chuckle reached my ears.   
“You didn’t come to see me last night.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, much lower than I would have expected from such a small man. “You are defiant, though I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone who has lost as much status as you have.” I saw his feet, sheathed in brocaded slippers that matched his long robe, come very close in front of me. “Why did you stop girl? You wouldn’t have gotten very far but you didn’t know that.” I stayed coldly silent and glared at the floor, mastering my fear. That low rumbling chuckle came again. “So defiant.” He pushed my chin up and I glared into his mocking face. “You must have a decent healer in the house, I would have thought you would have a mouse on your eye from the smack I dealt you yesterday.” He looked at me with a musing expression, his lips puckered into a considering mou. He snatched off my kerchief and tossed it on the floor, it had been half dislodged from his hair pulling anyway. “You are a pretty little thing, even if you are as sullen as a cat and stubborn as a mule.” I just glared at him, my hands were clutching my skirts now, anger and fear were battling in me and and anger was winning. He turned away from me and sat down in a high backed chair, arranging his robe around him.  
“Do you know why you were asked to come here last night?” he sat there waiting expectantly for me to answer. I just clutched my skirts harder and looked back at my feet. He sighed and I saw one of his slippered feet begin to tap on the carpet.   
My hands were cold and my face was burning with anger. I watched his tapping foot out of the corner of my eye.  
“Do you know why you deserve this treatment?” I stayed silent, gritting my teeth. “I will tell you,” he said in a conversational tone, “your father is a charlatan and a leech, he should be hanged for his horrendous acts!” His foot had stopped tapping and it took him a moment to moderate his tone back to a calmer register. “Cheating commoners and gnomes is one thing but the nobility must be protected from people like him.” The foot stopped tapping once more and he leapt to his feet to pace around. “The King has not protected me...the nobility so it is up to each of us to let these filthy merchants know that they cannot treat nobles this way.”  
His proselytising broke off and his hand gripped fiercely in my hair once more. “You are merely a gift of fate, the vehicle of my revenge,” he came closer, speaking softly into my ear, hot breath caressing my neck, “and such a perfect vehicle…” his breath had quickened and his fingers in my hair twisted cruelly.   
All my hair was trying to stand on end and my flesh was crawling in waves of revulsion. I turned my head as far as my captive hair would allow and did the only thing left to me; I screamed as loudly as I could manage, quickly putting my hands over my ears to forestall further orders and squeezing my eyes shut. I shrieked as piercingly as I could, trying to overcome the dampening effects of the thick walls and door, carpets and hangings. My scream was cut short by a swift punch to my short ribs, driving the breath out of my lungs in a grunt. I tried to draw breath, my arms coming down to protect my torso, leaving my ears free to hear his hissed command.  
“Be silent!” I was well and truly trapped. Lord Gow still had a grip on my hair or I would have sagged towards my injured side. We both stood there silently for a moment, he was waiting for me to do something or to see if anyone had heard my cry. I was as incapable of getting away as if the air had turned solid and it seemed as if no one had heard. I was trying very hard not to panic, bile was rising in my throat. Lord Gow released my hair and came around in front of me. I glared at him and spat in his eye. Calmly he smacked me hard across the face; the other cheek, for a mercy. I almost toppled over with the force of the blow, my feet still rooted to the spot where he had told me to stop. I held in a whimper. I would have suffered for any noise at this point.   
I glared at him still, my hand covering the warm spot where he had struck me. “You are quite an interesting creature,” he said with a sneer, “you obey the letter of my commands but are not submissive at all.” He chuckled again, the sound unexpectedly rich, rolling out of such a narrow chest. He reached towards me and I shrank away from his touch, a difficult task when I could not move my feet. He grabbed my wrist, his face twisting in pleasure, glee for my defiance. With his free hand he grabbed the neck of my blouse. The navy linen marked with Dame Olga’s device on the breast was buttoned up the back and as he wrenched at it the buttons flew across the room, falling silently onto the thick carpets. I tried to pull his hand away from my collar but his thin wrist and bony hand might as well have been made of iron. He pulled on my blouse until my chemise was bared to my waist, my arms still stuck inside my blouse, unable to pull free of my close-buttoned sleeves.   
He released my wrist and I immediately dropped to my bottom on the floor, clutching my knees to my chest with all my strength. He gazed down at me and I buried my face in my knees. I caught a glimpse of myself in the large stand mirror behind him, my face was as white as egg-shells where is wasn’t bruised and my mouth was open as if I were silently screaming. I had to get a hold of myself and think a way out of this. I stayed curled like that for a few moments before curiosity made me raise my head to see where Lord Gow had gone. I had schooled my face to seriousness I thought but when I raised my head he was standing in front of me with a long leather riding crop in his hand.   
“Stand up.” Slowly I rose to my feet, pushing the blouse back into place with unsteady hands. “Leave your blouse alone,” he used the end of his riding crop to push my blouse back to where it had been, poking the end firmly into my sternum. With a tiny flicking motion he slapped my hand where I was trying to cover my chemise with it. “Hands by your sides.” I did so, my hands clenching into fists with the pain, rage and fear that was flooding through me. He came closer, shouldering his crop and cradled my breast in his palm, his thumb running lightly over my nipple through the thin material. He stuck his riding crop in his armpit to free his other hand and ripped my chemise down the front in a businesslike manner, laying my breasts bare. I tried to twist away from him, he grabbed his riding crop back up and flicked my breast lightly with the end. It stung painfully and my skin warmed. I could hear the sounds I wanted to make in the back of my mind, a little cry, a hiss for the pain but I held them in.   
“You are very lovely,” he mused, flicking me lightly on the breasts for punctuation. He walked around behind me and I turned my head to try to keep an eye on him. He laid a much nastier stripe across my shoulders and I faced forward, all of my concentration on holding in a cry and a gasp of pain. He walked several circles around me, light kisses of the crop on my over-sensitized nipples and hard slashes across my back.   
He stopped once more in front of me. He ran his hand down my hair, twirling it around his fingers. “Good girl, not a single sound,” I tried to bite his hand and he snatched it away from me, his tangled fingers pulling my hair cruelly. He chuckled again.   
Dropping his crop carelessly on the floor he murmured, “you will never hurt me,” then grabbed me by the hair on both sides of my face and kissed me hard, shoving his tongue rudely into my mouth. He moved his hand to the back of my head, holding me fast to him and snaked his other hand over my breast then down across my hip to my bottom, hauling me into full-length contact with him. I felt a familiar rock hard warmth shoved into my belly, straining against my skirts. He released me all at once and took an unsteady step backwards, both of us were panting, I with the lack air I had managed to get around his kiss, him with desire. I watched as a bulge in the front of his ornate robe twitched. I wanted to scrub my sleeve across my mouth to remove the foul taste of him but my hands were stuck to my side as if glued. I spat on him again and this time he didn't hit me.   
“You will not spit on me,” he growled. His mood was quicksilver, angry one second then calm and commanding the next, I would almost have called him giddy. I glared at him but, of course, I did not spit again. “Good girl,” he cooed and walked back up to me, petting my hair, I tried to pull away and his hand snaked out and took a fistfull of my hair. He hauled me by my hair, my hands stuck by my sides, my feet dragging with the order to stand and stop. He threw me across the ottoman and I immediately tried to stand to follow my orders. He kneeled on the small of my back. I still tried to stand, my hands still stuck. “Be still,” he said and I stilled and he threw my skirts up overtop of me. I could feel tears streaming down my face, my vision blurring with all the fear running through me. I felt him lift his knee off of me, then laugh softly. Clearly my obedience pleased him. It certainly did not please me. I was trying to fight it but my fear was strangling my resistance. Suddenly a line of searing pain flashed across my bottom. I had to work at being silent knowing that trying to be quiet would help with my complaints. A small grunt escaped me none the less and my guts clenched with my disobedience. He slashed away at my bottom and the tops of my thighs. I managed to keep silent three slashes out of four but by the time he stopped to stand panting behind me, my stomach was filled with clenching pain and my head was pounding, tears were streaming down my face. I lay face down across the ottoman, spent with pain and exhausted by fear. My hands, still stuck to my sides, were clenched into fists.   
Suddenly I felt him fumbling at the waist of my bloomers and I fought my curse, trying to move, to protect myself, to yell... anything! It was no use, trying to be disobedient just made me want to vomit, black flecks flying across my vision. He pulled my bloomers down to my knees and smacked my abused bottom with the flat of his hand. It was painful, it felt like at least one of his slashes had broken the skin. More tears streamed down my face.   
Walking around to the front of the ottoman he wrenched my head up using my hair, holding it at a painful angle. He leaned my tear streaked cheek against his hairy thigh, face to face with his engorged member, tightly gripped in his hand. His robe had disappeared but he was still wearing his slippers, irrationally it made me want to laugh. I giggled silently at his slippers and laughed harder at the vision of his skinny frame straining to wield his riding crop with only his slippers on. My shoulders were shaking slightly with the power of my mirth despite my efforts to keep still.   
“No need to cry, this part will be enjoyable for both of us…” he cut off as he caught sight of my face, eyes squeezed tight shut and mouth in a wide grin, tears of mirth spilling over my damp cheeks. My shaking shoulders took on new meaning for him and he pushed me backwards off the ottoman, kicking it out of his way. He stalked towards me, his face a darkening purple, his mouth twisted in a snarl of rage. I gazed up at him my hilarity increased by his rod bobbing up and down with his steps. He raised his hand and I just watched him, there was nothing else I could do.   
Surprising to both of us, the blow never fell. We both gazed at his upraised hand, caught in Mandy’s firm fist.


	7. Chapter 7

“Get her out of here,” Mandy hissed at Gerda. I hadn't seen the stocky serving girl in the doorway. She was clenching her skirts in hard fists and her face was blotchy as if she had been crying.   
“Unhand me, wench,” Lord Gow spluttered, trying unsuccessfully to cover himself and wrest his arm from Mandy at the same time. Mandy ignored him, motioning at Gerda impatiently.   
Gerda scurried across the room, averting her eyes from the naked lord and dropped to her knees next to me. Feebly she pulled at me, trying to straighten my skirts and blouse and pull me to my feet. Mandy was watching us out of the corner of her eye as she wrestled Lord Gow's arm up behind his back. “Go with Gerda,” she said gently. “Anything he told you to do, you are not to do it anymore unless you want to.”   
My hands sprang up to cover my exposed breasts and a sob broke free from my lips unbidden. I threw my arms around Gerda and we struggled to our feet together, crying. She half carried me out the door, pulling my ruined blouse up to cover me. We pulled the door closed behind us on the sounds of Mandy eliciting squawks of indignation and rage from Gow. Gerda and I slowly headed back up to the servant’s quarters, her arm tight around my waist and mine around her shoulders. When we reached my room Gerda helped me out of my ruined blouse and skirt. She winced over every welt as if she were being struck herself. I laid on my face on my tiny cot, shivering in the cold of my tiny room.   
“I’m so sorry Ella,” Gerda sobbed, trying to cover me with a blanket without touching any of my welts.   
“It's not your fault Gerda,” I said, patting her knee next to me.   
“It is my fault, I should have come to check on you sooner!” she began to cry harder; great, heaving sobs shaking her plump frame. “I thought you were just slow, it only being your first week and all…” she trailed off into more weeping.   
“Only he is responsible for what he did,” I told her fiercely, twisting to try to see her face without stretching the sore skin of my back and bottom. Her tears subsided into a shocked hiccup at my tone and vehemence. “I laughed at him,” I said with a giggle. “He didn’t like it much.”  
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Gerda said, sounding shocked, “I laughed at my Pa once...” she trailed off, shivering. She pulled out a jar of ointment and began slathering it onto my scored shoulders and bottom. The gluey substance felt hot and cold at the same time and the fiery ache lessened almost immediately. I silently blessed Mandy, this was certainly her work.  
“How did you find me, Gerda?”   
“I made it all the way to the end of the wing and began coming back on the rooms you were supposed to do and I walked in and saw…..I saw him hitting you with his crop.” She sounded like she was going to start weeping again.  
“What happened next,” I prompted, forestalling her tears.  
“I ran to the kitchen, the cook said she would be responsible for you and I thought she wouldn’t take kindly to you being worked over by a guest. I had no idea she would take him on like she did, and him a lord!” Gerda sounded awed and a little incredulous. “But you will be right as rain in no time, you will just have to stay away from his lordship and hopefully her ladyship doesn’t punish you and Mandy too hard for bothering him…” she cut off at my shocked intake of breath. “Did I hurt you?!”  
“No Gerda, it wasn’t that. You think Dame Olga will allow that...that cockroach to stay in her home after he did...what he did!?” She looked confused.  
“He is her friend, and very powerful. I would be surprised if you and the cook didn’t have your positions threatened for this.” I sat up and looked her in the face, grimacing only slightly with my soreness.  
“What kind of lady is she that she doesn’t take care of her staff first! How dare she keep friends that would abuse people who rely on her.” I was filled with righteous indignation. She gave me a confused look.  
“There is no need to get upset, why don’t you lay down, there is nothing you can do about it.” I deflated slightly at the last, there really wasn’t anything I could do about it.   
“We wouldn’t have allowed anyone to treat our staff this way.”  
“So you really are a noble?”  
“Yes, Sir Peter is my father.”   
“I thought so, some of the other staff thought you were just some jumped up lady’s maid who thought really highly of herself, her ladyship will sometimes invite the whole staff in to meet a new person if she thinks they need to be brought down a peg.”  
“So that scene in the drawing room wasn’t just for me then?”  
“No, her ladyship and her friends borrow each other's servants who need to be cured of getting above themselves then set them to be scullery maids or pot boys or the like. We once had the head of Lady Dorelda’s household for a month in the laundry here. The head laundress sent her back with a black eye and a deflated ego.” She looked like she thought that might be funny but she straightened her face when she saw my disapproval. “There are even some lads in the stables who take a special pleasure in curing young women of flirtatiousness.” I must have looked shocked because she went on in a hurry, “they make sure no one is meeting young men on the manor grounds and they will sometimes entice a girl out to the yard and give her a spanking for being a harlot.” Gerda seemed to think that was funny too, I certainly didn't. I could feel my face heating at the thought of going out to the yard just to have my bottom paddled by some rough stable hand. I was incensed at the thought, but then my ego was abruptly deflated at the idea that I had, in fact, been acting the harlot.  
I must have blushed quite visibly because Gerda rushed on, “they would never do something like that to you my lady.” She seemed shocked at the idea and I noticed that I had become 'my lady’ instead of Ella.   
Bizarrely, despite my current position, being called 'my lady’ didn't feel ironic, instead I was given a sense of duty and purpose. Dame Olga wanted to make me subservient, obedient in reality, not just because of my curse and that was wrong. The way she and her friends were treating their staff was wrong too. I felt like I was getting my feet under me. For the first time since my father had married this awful woman, I felt like I had direction for myself and a goal for my life. I was going to make these people strong and proud of themselves and their place in the world. I realised that being a servant was a thing to be proud of and they deserved respect. I had always had respect for people in service because of the relationship my mother had with Mandy. I had never thought of them as less than me, merely people who did a different trade. It was my trade to take care of them and that was what I was going to do.   
I started to get up, my back and bottom still felt like they were on fire but less than they had.   
“Where are you going? You should lay down!”  
“I need to speak to Mandy, then I need to speak with Dame Olga.”  
“You can’t do that! What will her ladyship say if she knows you were alone in a room with a man! You could ruin your reputation!”  
I laughed softly, “It isn’t as if my prospects are the best at the moment anyway, could you lend me another blouse, I think mine needs to be mended.”   
“You want to put on a blouse? But you are all cut up, it will feel terrible. We could just tell her ladyship that you are sick…” I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her solemnly and doing my best not to writhe at the pain in my bottom. “All right,” she sighed, defeated, “I will get you a fresh blouse.” She stood and turned to go but hesitated and left the little jar of ointment on my bed. She turned back to me and deliberately bobbed a quick curtsy before leaving.   
Gerda had backbone, I would give her that. She would probably get herself into some trouble if she did that in front of Mum Olga.   
Slowly I got up and pulled on my livery skirt. I brushed out my hair with a slight wince for the tender spots where it had been pulled so cruelly, then tied it up with a fresh kerchief, white with tiny navy flowers. I washed the evidence of tears off my face and spread a little of Mandy’s ointment across both of my cheeks and my two eyelids. My other eye was swiftly swelling to compete with the damage the first one had taken yesterday. If it hadn’t been for Mandy’s ointment I would have had a face so swollen I was blind. I examined the damage with my hand mirror and was shocked at how bruised I was since I had looked at myself when I got up. Gerda bustled in with a fresh blouse and offered to button it for me. It was a little bit too large, I suspected that Gerda had brought one of her own blouses. I was one of the smaller girls in the service staff, narrower through the shoulders and across the bust than most of the maids and kitchen workers. I took a deep breath and walked out into the hall of the servant’s quarters, making every effort to walk smoothly. I saw Gerda out of the corner of my eye making a small, quick curtsy as I passed out of the door, she was silly and was going to get in trouble if she kept that up.   
I led the way to the kitchen, looking for Mandy but she was not there. The pot boy said she had run out of there like the place was on fire when Gerda had come to get her but he hadn’t seen her since. We headed back upstairs and came across a small huddle of maids in the servant’s corridor near the parlour. They were whispering together and it seemed like something had agitated them. They should have been busy laying out linens and setting the table for breakfast. Gerda and I came up behind them and they looked at us silently.  
“What has happened,” Gerda asked in a low, conspiratorial tone.  
“That new cook, Mandy, has dragged Lord Gow outside in his slippers and threw him in a snow bank!” one of the younger girls giggled, “his servants came out with warm clothes and rescued him but Mandy wouldn’t let him come back inside.” She seemed delighted with the gossip, her yellow flowered kerchief bobbing as she laughed.  
“The whole household is in an uproar! Irena from the laundry thinks he pinched Mandy's bottom,” a tall girl with curly black hair added. Gerda and I looked at each other.  
“Does Dame Olga know yet?” I asked. They looked at me in a condescending way.  
“Of course,” the curly haired girl said, “Lord Gow’s manservant was on the way to his room with his wash water when Mandy dragged him out. Of course the man servant ran to tell the head housekeeper who told her ladyship’s maid who is probably telling her ladyship right now.”   
I had met the head housekeeper a few times, she was an extremely thin woman with a severe lisp and she was hard as stone. I looked at Gerda and we left the alcove heading towards the front of the house. As we walked across the entrance hall that I had spent so many hours cleaning, we heard the sound of quick steps behind us as well as a commotion outside. Looking back we saw Mum Olga striding down the hallway in a long silky blue robe, none of her accustomed cosmetics in place and her luxuriant wig slightly askew. In her considerable wake scurried her body servant, her arms filled with Mum Olga’s gigantic fur muffler. Gerda and I stepped prudently to the side as Mum Olga swept out the door, only pausing long enough for the servant to drape her muffler around her.   
“Fetch hot towels and tell the stablemen to go the front for orders,” the maid snapped at Gerda before steeling herself and walking outside after her lady. Gerda glanced at me then went to obey. I followed the other two outside.   
Mum Olga was standing at the edge of the portico yelling down at people out of sight on the ground level. Her slippers were already covered in snow and would likely be ruined.   
“...leave him be! My dear sir, we can certainly come to an arrangement...If you touch him again I will lend you to Lady Geraldine for a month!” It seemed Mum Olga was shouting at several people, Mandy and Lord Gow probably. I wrapped my arms around myself and ventured forth into the predawn darkness down the stairs. As I descended I took in the scene; Mandy was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed across her ample bosom and her frizzy hair all standing on end. Lord Gow was standing there with several men, he was wearing what looked like a nightshirt underneath a heavy, fur-lined cloak as well as the familiar slippers. He seemed to have his body servant with him as well as some kind of guard. Next to them was another one of the lords from the night before, he was also wearing night clothes with a coat overtop and looked tousled as if he had only just gotten up. Behind them stood a groomsman from our stable, unrecognisable in the gloom.   
Acting much braver than I felt, I strode down the stairs and stood to Mandy's right and up a stair. I straightened my spine in defiance of the predawn chill and held my hands by my sides, trying to exude the nobility I had been born to. I raised my chin and glared down my nose at the horrid little lord. Dame Olga was still yelling down to him with apologies and placations. Lord Gow was exchanging his slippers for a pair of boots with the assistance of his body servant and ignoring her. He stomped his feet to settle his boots and pulled his cloak closer around him to hide his nightshirt. He drew himself up to his full height and raised a hand to Dame Olga, quieting her.   
“I regret to leave, my dear, but I will not stay in a place where I am allowed to be abused by peasants.” Halfway through he had to raise his voice to be heard over Dame Olga's wail of protest. When her babbling, pleading and wailing broke off for breath, Lord Gow swiftly broke in with a surprising roar, “I will not!” Awkward silence followed. “If you want to maintain our relationship,” he continued in a quieter, but equally steely tone, “you will divest yourself of this cook.”   
“But… my Lord Gow, you would leave me without a cook? How could you… what will I…” she trailed off under Lord Gow’s hard-eyed stare. We all stood in silence for a minute while she weighed her options. I looked at Mandy with concern, she was stone-faced and and didn't look at me, glaring at Lord Gow murderously. Her jaw was clenched so hard I could see the straining muscles in her cheeks despite their roundness.   
“Fine,” she shouted down to him petulantly, “but you will lend me yours until I am able to get a new one.” She began to sweep back into the house and called back over her shoulder, “Mandy, you will be off the premises before noon.”   
A new rock settled into my middle, joining those that lived there now from not being with Char and possibly being pregnant. Mandy had not stopped glaring down at Gow, it was as if she hadn't heard at all.   
“Ah, well. All to the good then,” Lord Gow said with a leer of self satisfaction at Mandy as he began to climb back up the stairs. As he got closer to us a change seemed to come over Mandy, she seemed to grow taller and buxom rather than plump. Her hair seemed to become sleek curls rather than frizzy and a glossy nut brown rather than grey in the wavering torchlight. A tantalising aroma of roasting chestnuts and baking bread seemed to emanate from her. She glared down at him with rage boiling off her in nearly palpable waves. I gripped her arm, trying to keep my rediscovered nobility intact through the grief and fear that was trying to swamp me. Mandy turned to me and her eyes were filled with sorrow and anger. I caught a flash of a face with smooth, ageless skin the colour of shining bronze. Suddenly, Mandy stood before me once more as I had always known her, short and dumpy with frizzy hair making a halo around creased face. She patted my hand on her forearm and the anger faded from her face.   
“I won't be far from you,” she confided quietly. “You can come to me to have orders revoked if you need but I would suggest telling Nancy or Gerda your secret so they can help you.” She gripped my hands tightly and I could see the beauty of that tall, bronze-skinned creature she had been shining through her eyes. “ Ella, you have permission to tell anyone you feel you can trust about your curse.” I felt a small weight lifted off me as I was released from my mother’s old order. I sighed. I tried to keep myself composed, my back straight and hold on my tears but it was beyond me. The sky was lightening and I felt as if I had just been plunged into darkness. Tears slid down my face and I clutched Mandy to me, sobbing uncontrollably. We stood there for a time as the sky lightened further, she stroked my back and hair and I cried into her shoulder.   
Finally Mandy shifted me so she could meet my gaze, “you will be fine, my brave girl,” she smoothed away the tears with her calloused hands, incredibly gentle on my battered face. “If you need me, I will be at the old house, your father sold it to a wonderful foreign diplomat and his family, I will get to learn all kinds of new recipes...” I giggled wetly. She slung an arm around my waist and we walked around the house to the kitchen door.  
I was frozen to the bone when we finally came into the kitchen and Mandy bustled about gathering her things while I stood by the fire with a mug of tea. Some of the kitchen staff were running full tilt around us attempting to create a semblance of a normal breakfast for both staff and household. Mandy calmly repacked her kitchen gadgets into the straw filled crates that had brought them here and folded her clothes into sacks with her other personal items. It was quickly finished and the staff said hasty but heartfelt farewells to her as they bustled by, often stopping for a hug and a peck on the cheek or a handclasp. I helped her take her assorted goods out the back door.   
“There is someone else I want you to meet before I go, I believe he could be a valuable ally to you and maybe a friend.” I nodded and followed Mandy into the stables, carrying a basket of her winter clothes. We strode into the hay scented darkness and were greeted with men’s voices. Four burly men were wrapped in coats and cloaks against the cold and were talking together by the light of a lantern at the far end of the stable. Mandy walked over to them but I hung back, one of those men was the man I had met in the pantry a few days ago, the one who had threatened and fondled me. He saw Mandy and looked very serious then looked me in the face, he didn't look as menacing as he had but he certainly looked grim.


	8. Chapter 8

“What makes you think I would ever spend time with this man! I rounded on Mandy, do you know what he does?!” She looked at me mildly and I noticed that I had inadvertently strewn some of her winter clothes around with my angry flailing. I swiftly bent to restore a heavy woolen skirt to my basket.   
“He and his compatriots have felt that their actions have gone too far for a while now. We had a long conversation about the kinds of behaviour they had been enacting in their efforts to create more obedient servants for Olga and her friends.” I glared at her over the pile of winter woolens and was interrupted by a nicely folded winter blouse falling into my basket. I turned to see the dark haired man standing to the side of me, half bent to retrieve a pair of woolens stockings that had flown into a nearby horse stall. He picked up the socks and carefully picked hay off them before adding them to my basket. I glared at him but he didn't look back at me.   
I stood, taking a swift step back from basket and man, “he tried to blackmail me and he pinched my bottom!”   
The older man looked uncomfortable and pushed his hair out of his face, “what she says is true, we thought that she was cavorting with the prince and wanted to teach her a lesson.” He looked at Mandy, but wouldn't meet her eyes or mine, “it was only after that we found out she was a lady.”   
Forgetting my aversion I walked right up to him and poked him in the middle of his broad chest, “it doesn't matter if I were a lady or a scullery maid, you had no right to manhandle me like that!”   
I was close enough to him that he didn't have a choice but to look at me and his swarthy skin darkened with a blush. He stepped back from me with a mumbled apology. I sighed, rubbing my forehead and turned to Mandy, “why did you want me to meet him?”   
She looked kindly at the big man, “I thought he might help take care of you, he is a reliable sort and has an excellent moral compass now that it has been recalibrated. He has friends and allies inside the house and outside that he commands a certain amount of loyalty from. I want you to tell him your secret but I won't order you to do it, this needs to be your choice.” She stood impassively and waited for my decision. I looked at the man uncertainly.  
“I don't even know your name,” I said to the man and he finally looked up from the floor. I realised that he was older than I had thought when I first encountered him and he fairly radiated shame. He was younger than my father but not much I thought, but it was hard to tell with his skin so sun and wind damaged.   
“Roland, my name is Roland,” he rumbled. His voice was a rich bass, I hadn't noticed how low it was when we first met.   
“Well, Roland, what do you have to say for yourself, you laid hands on me unbidden and some of the staff say you’ve done the same to others.”   
He hunched his shoulders in an uncomfortable shrug, “we chose to do as her ladyship asked of us, humiliating her friend's servants was part of the job now. We didn't like it much to begin with but we started to like humbling the snotty and flirtatious ones.” He sighed, “when Mandy confronted us about it, it didn't take long for us to remember how we had felt about it. To be honest, I was also embarrassed about how I treated you, I thought you were just another stuck up maid…” he cut off abruptly when he noticed my face, “not that maids deserve that treatment any more than ladies,” he rushed on, “but it really pointed out what we were doing wrong, well, along with Mandy, of course.”  
I sighed, it was difficult to maintain anger at someone who had come around to your way of thinking.   
“I’m sorry for how I treated you, I'm ashamed of myself and how I've led my men to behave and also what we've done for her ladyship, none of those people deserved what we did to them. If you would have me, I would like to make amends by watching out for you like Mandy said.” He looked back to the other men, who nodded. “It would be a relief to be loyal to someone who knows right from wrong for a change,” he said earnestly and I felt my face heating in a blush. I was certainly not the moral paragon he had mistaken me for. He might be watching my back while a child swelled on my front.   
“I couldn't possibly accept your help that way, I'm a servant now, your loyalty should be to your mistress, no matter how questionably she acts, your job is to do as she wants or find another position elsewhere and I can't pay any groomsmen.”  
“You forget,” Mandy said lightly, “however they treat you, you are a lady of this household now, you are their mistress just as Hattie or Olive is. You can set them this task, accept their loyalty and have confidence in them as one of their mistresses.” The men nodded vigorously. I sighed again, I seemed to be doing that a lot. Perhaps other people knowing my secret would be an acceptable risk. The security of a person nearby who could tell me not to follow a horrible order was very appealing. I imagined what might have happened if I hadn't had Gerda’s friendship this morning and shuddered.   
“Alright, you men need to know about one thing if you are going to help me, it is very important that you not tell anyone. I am cursed…”

Mandy rode out well before noon on a pony borrowed from the stable, trailed by a mule clanking with pots and pans. She had assured me over and over again that she would be nearby if I needed her, so much so that I began to think she was saying it as much to comfort herself as me. I and my newest guardians stood in the stableyard together to see her off. She kissed me once more and clung to me, crushing me with her love before shaking hands with each of the men and swinging up into the saddle with a grace that belied her apparent age and stoutness. Once settled in the saddle she beckoned me over, swiftly digging in her pocket, “I nearly forgot to give you this, it came in this morning.” She handed me a slightly crumpled letter which I stuffed in my pocket before flinging my arms around her once more. Eventually we parted and I watched her go, trundling off in a cloud of clanking noise. I waved until she was out of sight into the copse of trees that hid the end of the drive. Suddenly I felt hollow inside, it had been easy to put on a brave face when I was being brave for Mandy's benefit, it wasn't so easy to be brave for these strangers, or for myself.  
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to warm my suddenly frigid flesh and watched through the one eye that wasn't completely swollen shut as tiny holes appeared in the snow at my feet. It took me far too long to understand that tears were making those holes.   
I don't know how long I stood there in the snow watching my tears bore holes in the icy crust but Roland roused me by wrapping me in a horse blanket from the stable and hoisting me into his arms like a baby. I protested but it felt nice, protected and safe so I didn't fight him too hard. It was difficult to believe that only this morning I had been afraid of him, now all I saw was a father figure, a large, gentle guard. It was a wonderful comfort and I revelled in the feeling of safety and peace while I struggled with this most recent loss.   
I hid in the stables for the rest of the morning, Roland and the others took turns sitting near me as the others tended the beasts. I dosed lightly, warmly bundled in the horse blanket in an unoccupied stall, alternately sleeping and listening to talk or music as the men went about their day. They gossiped about this servant or Lord, discussed the horse flesh that had been hosted by their stable at one time or another, talked about plans for the spring and what kinds of husbandry they might want to attempt with the stock this year. I learned a bit about horses by simply being in their presence, why such a horse was known for endurance or another for a smooth gait. It was lulling to be surrounded by such warm homeliness and I revelled in it, beginning to heal my broken heart and battered body.   
At noon, I awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of feminine voices. Cautiously, I struggled out of my makeshift bed and went towards the sounds. Roland and his four men had set up a folding table with some crates for chairs and were lunching heartily in the company of Gerda and Nancy. Nancy's daughter was there with them along with a shorter girl with curly black hair. Roland saw me first, “ah! Sleeping beauty awakes!” He called, the rest turned to look at me. The men nodded to me and went back to the food but Nancy and Gerda looked at me with concern and the girls with horror.   
“Wrong fairy tale,” I said ruefully, maneuvering myself around to the far side of the table where there was an empty seat.  
“What happened to your face?” The dark haired girl that I didn't recognize said loudly, staring at me openly.  
“Now, muffin,” Roland interrupted her swiftly, “ be kind to Lady Ella, she has had a rough few days and remember we talked about tactfulness, this is the time to employ it.” He stroked her hair gently and gave me a rueful and apologetic glance. “Lady, this is my daughter, Paula.” He stood when he said it and I embarrassedly motioned him back to his seat, seating myself on an empty cask.   
“Nice to meet you, Paula.” I said blandly, taking up a wooden bowl and ladling myself a serving of stew, I was ravenous. Everyone ate silently for a moment then took up their conversations again, sending surreptitious glances my way from time to time to see if I would object to their company or topics. I nearly inhaled my stew, so fierce was my hunger, and barely noticed the people and conversations going on around me. It took until my second helping for me to notice that this stew wasn't made by Mandy and halfway through that bowl grief hit me so hard my appetite deserted me completely. I lay down my spoon and contented myself with shredding a perfectly good roll into tiny pieces and listening to the talk around me.   
“...royal messenger this morning but no one seems to know who he delivered to,” Gerda was telling the men with a conspiratorial tone. I stiffened slightly, remembering the letter that Mandy had given me before leaving.   
Surreptitiously I patted my skirt pocket and felt the reassuring crinkle of paper there. Perhaps Char had written me, I did some mental calculations and figured he would have only left yesterday morning. It seemed so much longer since I had seen him last. He wouldn't be in Ayortha until the day after tomorrow at least; if everyone in the party was mounted, longer if there were carriages.   
Impatiently I waited for everyone to begin moving towards the rest of their afternoon's work before standing and helping clear the dishes and remaining food. Gerda, Nancy and I made the chilly walk across the yard to the kitchen door while Paula and Elaine, Nancy’s daughter, walked back towards the village. We entered the kitchen and I was assaulted by the general hubbub of the noon meal. It looked as if the staff had made do with bread and cheese and the stew we had eaten, Mandy must have laid up the ingredients in advance for today.   
“When does Lord Gow’s cook get here,” I asked Gerda bleakly as we started on the mound of dirty dishes.  
“She isn't coming,” Gerda said smugly, “her ladyship and the girls have relocated to Lord Gow's manor until a suitable cook can be hired. With their guests and maids of course.”   
“I must have slept soundly to miss all their horses and carriages leaving.” I mumbled, but my heart leapt at the thought of not having to put up with Olga or her daughters for a few days.   
When the dishes were done, I retreated to my tiny, frigid room. Normally, I knew, there would be plenty of tasks for me, even with Mum Olga gone, but I felt rebellious and wasn't going to seek out any duties for myself. It wasn't as if they could fire me, after all. I wrapped myself in all of my blankets and draped the top of the pile with my winter shawl and skirt, snuggling into my bed. I pulled out my magic book and flipped to a random page, reading a charming story about a race between a tortoise and a hare.   
When I woke hours later, the light in the room had faded and my face and fingers were stiff with cold. My book had slipped sideways off my knee and a few pages had turned on their own. I drew the book back onto my lap, prepared to close it and get up to help with dinner but the open page caught my eye.   
On the page was an illustration of a heraldic device that I did not recognize, a wild boar and a stag rampant on fields of ice white and forest green. A banner over the image proclaimed, ‘Sir Peter receives a letter from an old friend.’ The facing page showed a short letter in a harshly slanted script, smudged and blotted in places with a circle of what looked like wine staining one corner. It opened without preamble, “Peter, I hear you have been playing suit to my cousin, Olga. Good man! Both of you have been playing the widow too long. I've always found that a new wife can put a whole new light on life. On that score, I'm in the market again, Juliette, poor turtledove, succumbed to a winter illness. I am again bereft and still have no children, perhaps I need a vibrant, bright southern wife. If you have any likely lasses in mind, I am still willing to extend the purse of enticement. I know how covetous you were when I married Marietta, perhaps I can offer you a side purse if you can find me a young, fertile, new wife before the holidays.” It was dated two weeks before the wedding and signed, “Conar Breitwulf, but you knew that, you greedy bastard.”  
“When did father receive this?” I was so stunned, I said it out loud. I flipped frantically to the next page and there was another illustration. Father stood in a hall receiving an envelope from a messenger and a banner overhear proclaimed, 'Only a day after his love-filled nuptials, Sir Peter receives missives from his friends.’   
My breath left me all at once and my brain started racing. It was obvious to me now why father had left so precipitously following his wedding, normally he would be more careful to avoid gossip. Only one thing would make father run out so fast... money.   
I automatically assumed that it was my impending wedding that this letter portended, but I suppose father had two step-daughters to play matchmaker with now too. Thinking about it, though, father would probably take Mum Olga's feelings into account and not try to marry her daughters off to her cousin. The thought of either Hattie or Olive having suitors seemed completely foreign to me.  
As I sat and pondered, my thoughts ran back to father. It was likely that he intended me as bride for Conar and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. It was likely that any friend of father's was going to be repugnant, though if I was pregnant, I needed to act fast and find a husband before I began to show. My thoughts strayed to Char as they often did and I nearly burst into tears at the thought of breaking his heart, especially after I hadn't done it in person. I should have lied and told him I hated him to his face instead of tumbling him in his carriage. Now he would think I was a money hungry trollop and a loose woman. The thought made me sigh. I was so tired, even though I had slept most of the day away, crying was just too much effort. I lay there, trapped by my own indecision and lassitude, and stared at the drawing of father and mulled over my options. Father might not return for ages, not knowing the urgency of the situation, though Conar had written that the purse was for a bride delivered before the holidays. Father would never pass up the opportunity for the purse by being slow to act. Why would he leave without me if he meant to marry me off?  
I thought about it for a long minute but couldn't come up with any conclusions so I began to dig myself out of my burrow. I was halfway free when I heard the crinkle of paper from my skirt pocket. The letter! I yanked it free and gave it a closer look. It was cheap, coarse paper sealed with a blob of brownish wax. On the back was written ‘Eleanor’ in a tight, spiky hand. Father.  
Imagining all the things my father might have written I resolved to find Roland and ask him to read it for me as Mandy had before. I straightened my hair and rumpled clothing then scurried down towards the kitchen, noting idly that I had probably missed dinner altogether. The kitchen was empty, confirming my suspicions and my stomach growled unexpectedly. Roland had a small house near the stables where he and his daughter lived as well as the more permanent of his men. Seasonal or temporary help stayed in the barn. I was fairly certain that all of the men that now knew my secret lived with Roland and Paula year round. At the kitchen door I pulled down a warm shawl and wrapped myself snugly before forcing the door open against the wind and the buildup of snow. Across the yard I could see a light shining in the window of the cottage and trudged towards it, cursing under my breath as the howling wind froze my ears to my bare head and whipped my heavy skirts around my thinly-stockinged ankles. I huddled under the eaves and knocked forcefully or the door, clenching my teeth to keep them from chattering. The door was abruptly opened a crack and I was treated to a thin sliver of face and messy black curls at the height of my chin.   
“Father’s not here, go away.” I stiffened at the order, trying not to obey.  
“Where is he, then?” I yelled as I slowly backed away from the closing crack.  
“Down in the village for a drink, he won't be back until later.” The door shut firmly with a solid thunk, barely audible over the gale.   
I was halfway across the yard before the curse loosened its grip on me, though I scarcely slowed, the wind pushing me from behind. I burst into the kitchen with a flurry of snow and shucked off the damp, half-frozen shawl and used the corner to wipe the melting snow off of my tender face and out of my hair before hanging it back up.   
I pulled a chair from the long table in the other room, determined to sit by the kitchen window and wait for Roland to return. It was very dark by this hour and only the glint of the cottage light was visible. What if Roland decided to stay in town for the night? It was certainly miserable enough outside to warrant it. Perhaps I should walk down to the village. The thought was barely formed before I was on my feet, racing back to my room for my warmest clothes.

I was swathed to the eyes in heavy clothes and had my warmest stockings and a purloined pair of high boots on my feet when I left the manor again. I had to waddle awkwardly under the weight, but I was warm. To combat the darkness, I had borrowed a bullseye lantern and the light of it swung back and forth over the trees on the lane, creating intricate shadows with the falling snow. It was difficult to see where the road lay, but it was easy to know when I had trod off the path and my foot slid abruptly off the side of the track more than once, dumping me in a heap in the snow. It was not a long walk to the village. On a fair day I could make the journey in a little under half an hour. Tonight, though, in the dark and snow, twenty minutes had passed before I passed the end of the long drive. I passed the spot where I had had my tryst with Char, the tracks from his carriage were long gone but I knew the spot because of a small clearing in the trees where carriages could turn around. Thoughts of him were hard now, filled with longing and sadness, as well as happiness, love and lust. I tried not to think about the heated passion that had inflamed us in his coach, but the thought warmed me to my core nonetheless.   
At the half hour mark I stumbled to the crest of a hill overlooking the village and stood to catch my breath and enjoy the view for a moment. I was sweating under my heavy clothes but my eyelashes were growing icicles from my breath. I was hungry too, I should have grabbed some food on the way out. The thought of a hot stew or a loaf of bread at the tavern galvanized me and I began my halting way down the hill.

The hill was quite steep at this point and there were two choices of road, a switchback that carts and carriages used and a more direct path for horses and people on foot. I barely considered at all before starting down the footpath. The broad switchbacks took a long time and I felt confident that I could navigate the hill successfully. Besides, it was clearly visible where at least one man and one horse had taken the path. Trudging along, I thought about Areida, I wondered if she had gone home to her family's inn or if she was still at finishing school. I wondered if she would believe all the things that had happened to me, it seemed like such a long time since I had seen her. I thought about her favourite songs and began to hum to myself, between breaths. Ten more steps down the hill and I was singing out loud, the tune muffled almost instantly by the falling snow.   
To my right a horse whickered, startling me to silence, my singing let off in an unmusical squeak. I took an involuntary step back My foot slid off the path into a deep drift and I toppled over backwards, tumbling down the hill into a small, rocky outcropping. I landed in a pile of clothes and snow, whacking my head on the stone.   
Through a haze of pain I watched, bemused, as a man shape was briefly outlined on the road above me, then all went black.


	9. Chapter 9

I awoke slowly in unfamiliar surroundings. I could hear the furious storm pounding against sturdy walls and whistling over a chimney and the sound of low voices nearby. I could smell cooking meat and vegetables but the rich odor made my stomach lurch unpleasantly because my head was pounding mercilessly. I slowly cracked one heavy-lidded eye and immediately shut it tight against the room's dim illumination. The glimpse of light from the dully glowing embers resonated redly against my tortured brain. I could feel my pulse against the inside of my skull, pressing tighter with every beat. My hair, gathered into a tail, was pressing into my head and making everything worse. I tried to free an arm to ease my hair out from under my head but it was trapped by an immense warm weight. Behind my comfortingly dark eyelids I could feel the room tipping alarmingly. I couldn't tell what orientation the bed was in because I could feel weight pressing me to earth from every side. I stopped trying to free my arm and concentrated on not sicking up on myself. A low groan escaped from my tight-pressed lips. Vaguely, through the pain, I noticed the low voices had ceased in the other room. I didn't care if they heard me, I hoped someone would come in and put me out of my misery. I felt a slight breeze on my face as the door opened. At the sound of the door creaking the weight on my right arm shifted slightly and I became aware that I wasn't alone in the bed. My breath caught as I began to panic and I struggled to free my arm from under the weight. My eyes flew open and I tried to lift my head to see who was next to me. This was a terrible idea and as I lifted my head, the whole world swam drunkenly around me. I managed to turn away from the weight on my arm and promptly threw up and passed out in my own vomit. 

An unknown amount of time later, I awoke again. The air was both fresher and colder and the smell of cooked meat had been overwhelmed by the scents of snow and fresh cut wood. Though the embers had died, I could tell day had come by the light straining through the chink under the door and sifting through the material of the curtains.   
I slowly began to categorise what my senses were telling me. My right arm was still pinned down by something heavy and from the feeling, it had lost circulation. I was warm but mostly on that side. My other side was chilly. I could see out of both eyes but the light was somewhat painful. I could hear a rhythmic whacking that eventually resolved itself into what I guessed was wood chopping. I moved my tongue around my mouth, it tasted like vomit. I grimaced and the movement of my face gave me a clue that my head was thickly wrapped. Knowing my recent streak of bad luck, I had probably broken my skull in the fall.  
At the old house, one of our maids had come late one afternoon and asked Mandy to come help with her granny who had been kicked in the head by a goat. Mandy had told me later that the old woman had been sick all over herself and had trouble with her balance and keeping food down for some time. The old lady had lived, but she had to move in with her son after that so someone could look after her. I fervently hoped I was a better case.  
Cautiously I tried lifting my left arm. It was under the covers too but seemed to move more freely than the other. I managed to slip it out from under the blankets and touched my head gingerly. It was swaddled thickly in some kind of coarse fabric. The weight that pinned my right arm shifted slightly and I froze, waiting to see what happened. I shifted my head slightly to see if I could make out who I was in bed with but straining my eyes that way just made my headache worse. Suddenly, the weight lifted off my arm and the bed gave a lurch. I heard the sounds of a stretch and one like a wet rug being shaken then a huge hairy face prodded into my field of view and slobbered on me. I might have screamed if I wasn't in danger of drowning in drool. On my cold left side a small warm body pressed against me and a tiny hand pushed the huge hairy head away from my face, allowing me to sputter and choke out great gobs of sticky slime.   
“Bad Bear! No kisses!”  
A small, intense face swam into view and looked at me curiously.   
“Are you waked up?”   
“Where am I?” I croaked. I could feel my vomit scented breath rise from my lips like a miasma and grimaced. “Do you have any water?” The face nodded and the bed jounced as the child stepped over my prone form and left the room.  
A blast of frigid air announced her return in a few minutes and I heard her footsteps as well as the clicking claws of the huge dog come back to the side of the bed. Her face came back into view. From this angle it looked as if she had a luxurious, curly, brown beard, but it was just her hair confined in her nightcap forcing its way free. She showed me a wooden cup and I worked my right hand free and clasped it. Cautiously, I turned my head to the side and waited for the nausea to abate then managed to take a sip with only a little spilling onto my pillow. It tasted wonderful and very cold. I was guessing it was melt water. I swilled it around my dank mouth and swallowed gratefully. I handed the empty cup back to the child when I finished and subsided, ignoring the wet spot on my blanket, pillow and shoulder. She set the cup aside and watched me thoughtfully. She looked serious as children do sometimes.   
“Are you hurt?”  
“It feels like it.”  
“My father says you walked in the woods by yourself. The Aunty says you shouldn't walk in the woods by yourself because a monster could eat you all up and wouldn't even choke on the bones, but I don't think that's true because bear is the size of a monster and you have to take the bones out of his food 'cause he might choke.” she seemed to be waiting for an answer but I just lay there, waiting for my wits to catch up with the flood of words.  
“My father says you took a crack to your head and might get sick again but don't do that ‘cause I had to clean it up last time.” Again she paused like she was waiting to see what I would say.   
“I'll try not to.” I ventured, but I could feel the curse taking hold. I wondered what would happen if I had to vomit now and envisioned choking because I couldn't let it out. “How about a compromise, how about I'm allowed to be sick if I sick in a bucket?” she tilted her head to the side and considered me gravely.  
“What's a compromise?”  
“It means we both get something that we want.”  
“You want to be sick?” She asked in horror, wrinkling her tiny delicate nose.  
“No, but my nurse always used to say 'if it wants out you gotta let it out' and she was right, I could choke on my sick if I'm not allowed to let it out.” I tried to sound certain and reasonable with this strange child, but her seriousness unnerved me a little. After some thought she nodded.  
“Okay, you are allowed to be sick, but only in a bucket or outside. I don't want to clean up the bed again.” I let out my breath slowly, trying not to show my relief.   
The sound of chopping that had become a background to our morning ceased unexpectedly and I groggily focused on the door. I heard the door in the other room open and the sounds of a wood box being stocked. The tiny girl began putting clothes on over her nightdress. I didn't blame her. The fire in this room was burning merrily but it was not warm enough in here to warrant a cavalier attitude towards clothing. When she was dressed she looked at me then said, “it's time to get up, Georgie.” A moan behind me startled me and I was tempted to look around, but thought better of any action that might bring on my nausea. Before long, my small companion was helping a sturdy toddler step over my prone body. He was wearing only a shirt and diaper and she quickly dressed him as well. She was barely older than him, but managed him with the practice of long familiarity.   
The noise in the other room had changed from the thumps of wood stacking to the familiar noises of food preparation and the smell of cooking meat soon wafted into the room. My stomach growled hungrily and the baby gave a surprisingly adult chortle, revealing a collection of gleaming milk teeth and a happy nature. He reminded me of the gnome baby I had saved from the ogres in the zoo. He waddled to the door and pushed it open, revealing a hearth and a stool. A wood box stood full next to the fireplace and the ceiling was festooned with the fruits of the harvest. Ropes of braided onions and garlic, sacs of apples and potatoes, sausages, cheeses and herbs hung from the beams and made the room feel closer and darker. I couldn't see the whole room, but it looked well provisioned to survive the winter. A young man walked through the slice of room seen through the door and glanced in.   
“Breakfast is near done. Go see if father is done with the cow.” The girl nodded and pulled a heavy coat off the peg, leaving my field of view. The baby promptly sat on the floor and took up a toy horse. The young man came near the bed and looked down on me, “do you feel up to a bit of food, you have been in and out for a while but we haven't been able to get food down you, you must be starving.” He had a sweet, earnest face and his brow wrinkled in concern over dark eyes and a wide mouth. A glossy brown curl had flopped onto his brow and he pushed it back with a huge, work roughened hand.   
“I am very hungry, and I don't feel too sick if I don't move my head.” He grinned like I had said a joke and his cheeks creased, showing deep dimples.  
“I'm glad you're speaking again, you had us all worried for a few days.”  
“How long have I been here?” I heard myself say, but I felt divorced from myself, how long had I been gone? Was anyone looking for me? Was Mum Olga back and wondering where I was?   
“Two days, my father brought you in with a load of supplies three nights ago. You've been awake before now but you weren't coherent, we were worried the fall had knocked your wits out.” The frown was back and looked concerned, he came closer and perched on the edge of the bed. “The Aunt said to have you sit up and to check the bandage when you came out of it.” Gently, he slid a broad hand behind my head, cradling it, and eased me upright, a strong arm around my waist. I tensed at the familiarity, waiting for him to grab or touch what he shouldn't but he just set me upright and left only a steadying hand on the back of my neck. He piled pillows and rugs about me to hold me up. When he was certain I wouldn't fall over he got up and came back with a tray. Thick pease porridge with bacon and hot tea were set on my lap. I was very hungry but also felt the nausea threatening. I hesitated and he smiled encouragingly and picked up the spoon.   
“I can feed…” was all I managed to say before the first spoonful sailed into my open mouth.   
“I'm sure you can,” he smiled again so sweetly as he slid another spoonful into my mouth when I tried to protest again. There was no malice in that generous face so I subsided and let him feed me. Before long, the delicious warmth of the simple food was permeating my limbs, flowing out from my stomach.   
He set aside the tray, allowing me to hold the mug of tea on my own while he unwound the bandage from my head. He was gentle and competent but would sometimes gaze at my face instead of attending to what his hands were doing. When the bandage was off, he gave a little wince.  
“That looks painful, but the aunt did a great job.” Tentatively, I touched my scalp, where a line of painful raised flesh cut a furrow about the length of my first finger joint through my hair. I winced but the skin felt as if it had already knit itself together. I could feel the pull of crusted blood in my hair as I withdrew my hand, though, and grimaced. “I’ll clean it for you, don't move.”  
My curse took hold and I sat there dumbly with my hand halfway from my head to my lap, not even my eyes moving. He didn't notice as he was turned away from me, fumbling with a jar and cloth on the side table. He looked back to me and carefully parted my matted hair, cleaning the cut with gentle daubing of the cloth. A strong smell arose from the cloth, both herbal and astringent. It reminded me of Mandy but it also made me want to sneeze. My breathing was already shallow, trying not to move and my complaints were making themselves known just from that small disobedience. I could feel my ribs creaking with the effort not to sneeze, not to move. Just as I was about to burst open from obedience, “turn to the left?” I turned and sneezed hugely. He laughed, “It takes me like that sometimes too.” He finished cleaning the wound and I could feel the medicines working, cold and hot at once. As he brought out a fresh bandage and began to wind it over the wound, he asked, “what is your name?”  
“Ella. What's yours?”  
“Benjamin.” He knotted the bandage securely and sat gazing into my face. It was unnerving to sit in a bedroom with this strange man while I was almost completely helpless.   
At that moment, the little boy tottered in from the other room, his face covered in pease porridge, his toy horse in one pudgy fist. Like a miniature drunk, his steps weaved across the room towards the young man, who caught him up deftly and bounced him until he was laughing upside down, his fat fists waving.  
A swirl of cold air flew into the room as two figures entered from outside, one small and one large passed in front of the bedroom door, deftly removing winter clothes. The taller figure unwound a scarf from a narrow face. Weathered but kind, with a broad mouth and sun darkened skin. He was likely in his thirties but had aged with hard work and weather. There was a clear kinship with all three children. His dark curly hair matching that on all three of the others.   
“Our mysterious snow maiden lives!” He boomed and ducked into the bedroom. He was very tall but lean like his older son. The toddler crowed and struggled out of his brother's grip, running to his father and gripping him around the knees. A large smear of pease porridge appeared on the knee of his canvas pants before he caught the boy up and cuddled him in his arms, tickling and snuggling him into torrents of giggles.   
“She said that we have a com-pro-mise so that she won't be sick in the bed again.” The voice of the girl came from behind the man and she snuck around him bearing a bowl of porridge which she promptly began to eat.  
“That's well enough, but she looks past being sick in bed to me,” opined her father.  
“Aunty said she would likely be abed a few days more,” cut in Benjamin. “I wouldn't push her too far beyond what Aunty suggests.”  
“Of course we won't, lad,” his father soothed. Suppressed merriment in his eye.  
“Her name is Ella.”  
“Ella is it?” He set the baby on his feet and leaned out of the bedroom, grabbing a stool and bowl of porridge. Seating himself he applied himself to the food, occasionally feeding a spoonful to the baby when he came near enough in his orbiting of the room, horse toy galloping from bed to floor to window sill. “Well Ella, I'm Joshua, and you met Ben. My girl is Liza and this is Georgie.” He pointed with a full spoon at the toddler who gobbled the porridge on his way by.   
Liza, who had been industriously cleaning her bowl looked up. “So, you gonna tell us who ye’ are? 'Cause papa said you were out on the road in a snowstorm all alone and didn't have any food or water or extra oil for your lamp or money…” she trailed off and gave me the same expectant look from before.   
My swimming brain decided on a version of the truth. “I was on my way to the village, I live nearby at the manor house.”  
“All alone at night in a snowstorm? Were you fetching a doctor?” Joshua's face creased along deep furrows of concern that his smile had masked. Clearly, he had known some hardship to carve such deep grooves.   
“No…” I hesitated, I realised that going to the village pub to meet a man that I worked with at the manor was both a poor reason to brave the snow and darkness, but also suspicious when considered from a virtue standpoint.   
“Were you running away, lass?” Joshua said gently, “only, the Aunty said you had marks of a fresh beating on you.”  
I grimaced but decided a truth was better than an outright lie. “I had a letter and wanted someone to read it to me, I thought it might be important. I went to a friend's house, but his daughter said he was down at the pub, I thought it would be an easy walk.”   
He laughed aloud, “who is it from, your letter? Do you have a young man writing to you that you would hare off into the teeth of a gale to have a letter read to you?” I felt both father and son subtly tense, waiting for my answer.   
“No, I think it is from my father.” They relaxed visibly, Ben even smiled. “Who is the Aunty?”  
“Oh, the Aunty is…” Joshua trailed off, searching for something. “A healer, I suppose. And midwife.” He scratched his chin meditatively. “When she saw you, she thought for certain-sure you were from Ayortha. I couldn't say why.”  
“She heals animals, too,” put in Ben.   
“She did a mighty fine job on your skull,” Joshua added judiciously, “you might have been invalid or imbecile very easy with a crack like the one you took, but she patched you up as well as that.”   
“But, you would have died in the snow without Papa,” Liza added around a mouthful of food, “he saved you from freezing and brought you all the way here in the snow and called the Aunty and everything.” Another very full spoon filled her mouth and she left off.   
“Anyone would have done the same for a pretty, helpless young maiden.” Joshua said with good will and bravado as well as a twinkle in his eye and he winked at me as he deftly fed Georgie another spoonful. With this outrageous statement, I noticed that Ben’s ears turned pink and he abruptly caught up Georgie and went into the other room with him. I watched him go with slight apprehension. What was that about, I wondered.   
Liza immediately crossed the room and took up her brother's former seat at the foot of the bed and continued to devour her food. I watched Joshua, his grin had faded a bit when his son left, but he had given me an unrepentant shrug and took a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned a spot of porridge off the floor where Georgie had missed the spoon, or vice versa.   
“I would suggest you stay abed, as Benjamin said. The Aunty was very firm about your recovery.” He gave me another twinkling, lopsided grin and ducked back out of the room, taking his stool with him.  
Liza gave a contented sigh as she ran her finger around the rim of her bowl and stuck it in her mouth. I was ready for another barrage of words, but none came. She simply picked herself up and collected dishes and food debris then disappeared into the other room after her family.  
Gratefully, I snuggled further into my blankets and dozed, completely exhausted by the busy little family in what felt like a very short time. My thoughts were muzzy and my head throbbed in time with my heartbeat. I listened as a short squabble broke out in the kitchen between the men and was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming but could not make out the topic of the argument or who had left. I couldn't muster any energy to care in either case and dozed again.


	10. Chapter 10

It was miserably cold when my father's summons pulled me from my warm bed and dreams of Ella. In the frigid darkness of the room, I struggled into my riding clothes as the servants were still laying fires in the grates. I doubled up on my socks, one thin pair and one thick. It was a trick I had learned while campaigning against ogres in the fall, and I blessed my soldiers and companions for their wisdom as my feet quickly warmed in my well used boots. Mother had made her preferences known for my wardrobe and I had new boots for my year away, but I wasn't about to tramp through fresh snow and sleet in new boots.   
Father’s valet came to gather me up just as I was stowing my night things in my saddle bag. “His majesty asks that you join him in the night kitchen to break your fast,” he intoned rigidly from the doorway.   
“Thank you, Paul.” I handed him the saddle bags as I went by. My own valet, Kieran, was not far behind me and was staggering under the weight of the dozens of sets of formal court dress my mother had insisted upon. Paul gave me a stiff little bow as I went by into the hall.   
Paul’s stuffiness always irked me somewhat, I mused as I made my way to the night kitchen. Kieran and I had a much more informal relationship unless Paul was nearby. I could feel the tension in my shoulders ratchet up whenever Paul and Kieran were together in my presence, as if Paul would discipline Kieran for familiarity. It was strange and I hadn't gotten the nerve up to ask Kieran about it.   
Kieran was relatively new to my service. He had been presented to me shortly after my seventeenth birthday, in preparation for going on campaign against the ogres. He had been stiff to begin with, but you get to know someone when you live rough with them for several months.   
Thinking about ogre hunting made me think of Ella again. I thought about our rendezvous in my carriage yesterday and I could feel my face heat, and...other things. I struggled to get myself under control and surreptitiously adjusted myself before entering the night kitchen.   
Father was there, seated at the well scrubbed table with a basket of fresh bread, boiled eggs and a small tureen of baked beans. He was dressed sensibly in warm riding clothes lined with thick fur. He would not be riding all the way to Ayortha with me, only to the edge of the elves forest where we were stopping for the night. He would overnight with us, then return home with most of the entourage. “My Lord Father,” I gave the traditional small bow before I joined him, taking the opportunity of sitting down to adjust the crotch of my breeches again. I hoped he hadn't noticed, but he seemed concentrated on his breakfast, nodding absently but not looking up from his eggs. I dug into my breakfast, even though my stomach was not awake yet and the food seemed to just sit in my gut like lead. I yawned hugely, trying to cover it with my napkin but it brought father out of his reverie.  
“Wake up, my lad! Can't have you falling out of the saddle.”  
“No, father.” I dropped my last crust of toast back onto my plate and wiped my hands and mouth before rising. Father followed suit and led the way out the door, pulling on winter gloves.  
We walked into the entrance hall and waited as staff and household lined up to bid us farewell. My mother was in her day gown but looked as if she would be returning to bed immediately upon our departure. I didn't blame her, I wished I could do the same. Unbidden, a thought of Ella in my bed sent fire through my veins and made my last few goodbyes to my dowager aunts awkward for me as I had to twist and crouch so as not to embarrass myself. I tugged my doublet down as far as it would go and thanked my luck that my mother had it made big enough for me to fill out in my year away.   
My mother looked tired but also proud, she was eager for me to prove myself. Secretly, I thought she was also eager for me to take over some of father's duties so she could spend more time with him. I had never met anyone as in love with each other, even after many years, as my parents. I watched my father bid mother farewell with a lingering kiss and thought of Ella again, pressed against me, her adorable nose wrinkled in laughter.   
“My prince…” A tentative voice at my elbow brought me back to the present and I looked around to see my father striding purposefully out of the hall. I stepped quickly to catch up, poor Kieran, almost a head shorter than me, running behind.   
We were all mounted and on the road in no time. I nodded to a few of my guards who were familiar faces from the ogre hunting expedition. I had chosen my men carefully, men without young families that would need them at home during the year we were gone but also, loyal friends who I knew and trusted.   
Dawn was just breaking as we passed the road to Ella's step-mother’s manor and I fought down the unreasoned urge to take off at a gallop to the estate and bring her with us. Or just kiss her again, or just see her, or hold her… My horse was very obediently walking into a ditch when I snapped out of that reverie and my loins were newly tight and aching in my pants. I shifted uncomfortably on my saddle and resolved not to think of Ella again until tonight. This was much more easily vowed than accomplished, though, and my pants continued to confine and chafe with the gait of my horse, no matter how smoothly he trotted.  
It was dusk by the time we reached our camp for the night. Because my father was joining us for this leg of the journey, parties of soldiers and servants had been sent ahead of us to erect pavilions and prepare food so that it was there to greet us when we arrived. The remainder of the journey would not be so comfortable or so lavish.   
We could see the light and the banners from the pavilions for a long time before we reached them and the smell of cooking foods and roasting meat reached us on the breeze, tantalizing and teasing our appetites.  
There was a very festive atmosphere in the large pavilions and local lords and ladies as well as important elves were already taking in the festivities, eating and drinking and dancing in their winter finery. A whole suckling pig was slow roasting next to huge vats of elven soups in several variations. The whole display made my mouth water as I quickly dismounted and handed my horse off to a waiting groom. Father had called a halt a little less than a hour back along the road so we could trade our warmest riding gear for fancier clothes and my new boots were pinching slightly as we made our way through the heavy tent flaps into the main pavilion.   
A cheer went up as we entered, father first then me and our entourage behind. We were swamped with well wishers immediately and hot spiced wine was pressed on us as we made our way in. It seemed as if our guests had been enjoying our hospitality for the better part of the afternoon and some were very inebriated.   
There was a small group of local musicians providing music for dancing and elves and men alike were thronging the middle of the tent, kicking their heels up to the energetic music. The noise and heat and smells of the tent were intense after the relative quietude of the ride here and I sought out a trencher of meat and vegetables and a cup of soup with my men as soon as I could slip away. We found a spot at a long communal table that had been set up along the dance floor and set to our food with a will.   
My companions for this journey and my year away were a mixed group. Three of them had been from my ogre hunting campaign and I knew them well. Solid men from humble origins who has been raised to my service through hard work and dedication as foot soldiers and who had distinguished themselves through intelligence and their ability to ride. The fourth man was newer to me. He had joined our ogre hunting cadre late and was not a commoner but a minor lordling. He had older brothers and so trailing around after me was deemed to be a fit pursuit for him and, from my understanding, was meant to keep him out of trouble. We were still building a relationship but he seemed steady enough so far. The last men, of course, were Kieran and his valet, Dirick.   
Of the seven of us, only myself and the other nobleman had been to Ayortha before. I had been there with my parents when I was six or seven when the crown prince had been born. He had a sister married to an Ayorthan lord and we would be staying with her and her family on our way to the capital.   
“What do you make of the elven soup?” Henry asked the man to his left, Lorne. They were two of my common soldiers and I would have been surprised if they had tasted elven cooking before. Lorne didn't answer. He was watching a beauty of an elven girl as she was twirled around the dance floor by my father, his spoon halfway to his lips. Henry elbowed him and he dropped the spoon into his lap, smearing bright green soup down his tunic. He swore and began to dab at the mess with the tablecloth. Kieran rolled his eyes at the ruined clothes and escorted the soldier out to our tents so he could try to salvage the piece. A stifled snicker came from the other valet as they passed.   
“Would my Lord care for some hot wine or ale?” A flirtatious young woman in her feast day finery was offering a tray of drinks to my noble companion. He stood and used the opportunity of selecting a tankard from her tray to bend his face close to her ear so he could whisper to her. She blushed hotly and giggled nervously as he lingered over his drink choice. When he finally reseated himself, the rest of us were watching as she walked away, swaying suggestively and glancing back at him over her shoulder. He ignored her backward glances in favor of the contents of his cup.   
“You certainly have a way with girls, my Lord,” put in Vance from the other side of the table. He had awe written all over his face.   
My cadre were all quite young and some of them had only spent months with the army before being picked to join my company. Needless to say, our ogre hunting party had had few opportunities to interact with women and our companion’s ease with them was news to all of us except his valet.   
He blushed faintly, not looking up from his cup, but he seemed pleased enough with the comment. “I’ve had to be quite interesting indeed to wrest any female attention away from my brothers. Not to mention my father.” His mouth twisted in distaste at that last and tossed down the last dregs of his new glass of spiced wine.  
Henry looked up from his dinner in curiosity, “I've heard your father has a preference for…” he faltered as he realised that what gossip he had heard might not be well received by that worthy’s own son.   
“Yes,” the lordling cut Henry off wearily, “I'm sure whatever you've heard is probably true. I don't share his proclivities, however. I merely enjoy a comely wench when the opportunity presents itself.” He punctuated this by getting up and walking away into the crowd.  
“Now I've gone and made an arse of myself,” mumbled Henry.   
“What have you done this time?” Lorne asked with a teasing tone as he slid back onto the bench. He was wearing a clean tunic and Kieran was nowhere to be seen, probably still trying to rescue the other garment.   
“He’s gone and asked Alverston about his Lord Father.” I put in with a meaningful look at each of them. “Even though we had that conversation about letting that particular set of rumors stay unmentioned.”   
“Well Alfie will have to get used to it,” put in Dirick, “it isn't as if Lord Gow is going to mend his maiden hunting ways any time soon. Even a proper noble wife couldn't curb that old reprobate.” He laughed with a tinge of malice at his master's ill fortune then got up and wandered away to refill he plate and cup.   
“Dirick aside,” I said with a sigh, “I would like you fellows to show Alverston some respect, which includes not calling him Alfie unless he invites you to,” this with a glare for Vance, who was by far the most likely to act familiarly with anyone. “I would also like you to avoid mentioning his father. There is tension there and it is not our place.”   
“Yessir,” they chorused, looking a bit sheepish.  
When we had finished our meals, I introduced my men to some of the elves that had joined the celebration. They were hilariously awkward and polite but fascinated by our exotic allies. Before long, Vance was telling tall tales to an elven handmaiden and Henry was trying to talk his way out of something daft he has said to another lovely elven maid.   
My father swiftly gathered me up to speak about the ogre hunt with some elven and local human nobles and our conversations flowed as easily as the wine. Someone brought up Ella in passing as a half-believed tale, her ability to tame ogres taking on almost mythical status. I explained that phenomenon as best I could without being too specific. I doubted Ella would want to become and ogre taming tool or a sideshow for these people, even though they seemed merely interested.  
One of the elves took me aside and told a story of a girl they had found lost in the woods. They had fed her and she had possessed a magical book of stories. She had been trying to reach the giants. His winter brown face crinkled in despair, he wondered if she had been eaten by ogres. “She said she was the merchant Lord Peter’s daughter. Have you heard if she is well?”   
“They are one and the same girl,” I told him with a sad smile. He began to talk about her but I was thinking about Ella when I had met her in the woods while on the ogre hunt. She had been funny even though she had clearly been through an ordeal. I had been deeply in love with her, even then. I thought about her smile and her freckled nose in the dappled light of the forest and how I had wanted to kiss her.  
“Ah, but you are in love with her,” the elf said slyly.   
I came back to reality with a thump, “uhh,” I stated, articulately.  
“There is much to love, she is smart and kind, she does not hide her heart. She is beautiful as well.” The elf nodded sagely, “she is a wonderful choice.”  
I blushed fiercely, “I agree,” I said in a low voice, “I must spend a year in Ayortha, however, and I hope she will still have me when I come back.”   
“I can see the love in your heart, she will too,” he confided in an undertone, smiling conspiratorially and patting my arm.   
After that, I danced with several elven and human ladies. The elves were winter touched and their skin was nut brown and dry but they were still as graceful and full of life as sprites. The local human lord had brought his household and I danced with his daughters and his housekeeper alike. I was more comfortable dancing with the housekeeper, she didn't look at me coquettishly and glance at her mother on every turn around the floor. I had done enough hunting in my life to know when I was the quarry.   
After a few too many drinks and a lot of bland politicking with my father and the local lords, both human and elf, I was more than ready to turn in. I wrapped my cloak firmly around me before making my way to the small group of tents where my travelling companions and I were staying the night. I tripped over a bucket that was laying in the road and measured my length in the snow to the side of the beaten down track. I took a moment to gather myself and brush the snow off myself before continuing on towards the tents. I could see lamp light coming from between the flaps of the tent to the left and made my unsteady way there. I unhooked the heavy canvas flaps and ducked inside, barely registering the noises behind me as I hooked the flaps back together. Turning, I began to remove my gloves and got an eyeful of Alverston and the serving girl from earlier. He was wearing only a dressing gown, open in the front, and she was still in her feast clothes but one of her breasts was pushed free of her bodice and her skirts were gathered up around her waist, exposing her bare bottom. He had one hand sunk into her elaborate hairdo and one at her waist and he was clearly deeply insinuated in her maiden hood. Both of them were staring at me unmoving for a moment before Alverston grunted loudly and clutched convulsively at the girl.   
“Hey, stop, you promised,” she protested and pushed ineffectually against his thighs while trying to stand up. He released her hair and groaned low in his throat as if he were pained.  
“Sire, I'm sorry you saw….I will…” he pulled himself free of the girl and pushed her skirts down to hide her bottom, now smeared with excretions. “I will make amends…”   
I was dumbstruck and through my alcoholic haze, the sight of the young woman straightening up, her breast still free of her bodice, reminded me of some propriety and I turned my back on them, cheeks blazing and halfway aroused. “I'm sorry,” I choked and began clumsy attempts to unclasp the tent flaps.   
“My Lord,” the girl said aggressively in a low tone to Alverston, “you promised you would not get me with child and look at what you've done.”  
“I will ensure your comfort and the comfort of any child, of course,” Alverston said in a strangled voice, “or a dowry if you prefer.”  
“That will be fine, my Lord, I will come collect my dowry on the morrow.” With that pronouncement, she came up next to me, and unhooked the tent flaps in a business-like fashion before exiting into the night.   
I turned to Alverston who was seated on the edge of his pallet with his face in his hands. After a moment he scrubbed his hand vigorously over his face and got up, coming over to me and wrapping his robe over his nakedness.  
“Sire,” he began with entreaty and embarrassment in his voice, “I apologize for that…. unfortunate scene, how can I make amends?”   
“Do you have any wine?” He swiftly walked over to a chest by the door and pulled out two cups and a wine skin, deftly filling the cups and proffering one to me. I drank it down and he refilled the cup as he polished off his own. We sat on the edge of his pallet together.   
“You are not married to that girl.” I stated after a minute. I had been trying to gather my thoughts through the alcohol but I knew there was information here that I needed.   
“No, my Lord.” He looked chagrined.   
“And... you've... sullied her virtue.”  
“I have my Lord,” he sighed, “I may not have been the first, she may have children already, for all I know, but I have sullied her.” He looked a little panicky at this point and tossed back another cup of wine.   
“And you may have sired a child with her just now...by doing...that,” I lost my nerve and stumbled to a halt.  
“Sire, I don't know what to say, I … spilled my seed in her,” he looked at me sidelong, trying to understand my question. I rubbed my forehead, trying to break through my own embarrassment.   
“And bastards are made this way, even among highborn people like you and….a lady?” I managed to grit out through my grinding embarrassment.   
“Yes, but I only have lowborn bastards,” he said quickly. “The Lady Dorothea’s oldest may not be mine, she was married so quickly, I never could guess,” he trailed off still examining me out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge my reactions. I nodded, putting the pieces together, the lady in question had taken a very ill match at short notice. It had been the talk of the kingdom for some time, but I hadn't really thought about it. I understood now. Many of the things left unsaid in my presence suddenly made sense, jokes I had not understood took on new meaning.   
“Alverston,” I croaked over rising panic, “tell me what happens to a maiden who you treat thusly who does not immediately marry.” I could see the confusion on his face but he rallied.  
“Well, if she is higher born than me, her father might force me to marry her, she might marry some poor fool who will raise my bastard as his own, or, if she begins to show, she might be put out of the house or sent to a convent to have the child in secret then be immediately married off to whoever will have her. If she is common, I might give her a dowry to marry someone to raise my bastard or I might give her the means to raise the child alone. She will probably be put out of her village if she chooses that route, because she is immoral and no one will want her about. She may become a prostitute or a beggar or both. I don't really like to think on it.” He shivered and took another long pull of his wine.   
“How do you know this,” I asked, I felt like a lead weight had settled into my gut.   
“Mostly, I have older brothers, it was something I grew up knowing, why do you ask?”  
All of a sudden my guts wrenched into full revolt and I staggered to his basin, spewing my guts into the enameled bowl. I heaved and heaved, everything I had eaten all evening and a large quantity of liquor thundered into the basin salted liberally with tears spilling down my face from the effort.   
Finally I ran out of bile, but I had not run out of thoughts. What had I done to my funny, smart, beautiful bride? How was I going to fix this?


	11. Chapter 11

The sunlight was blinding off of the snow and did nothing to dispel the biting cold. Motes of ice swirled in the dancing zephyrs raised by our passage as my beast bore me along the road at a ground eating canter. I felt invigorated and alive, the taste of copper in my mouth from breathing the cold air. The sky was a delicate blue so light it was barely tinted at all and not a single cloud marred the dome of the heavens.   
We rode for what felt like a lifetime and was at once no time at all and all was right with the world.  
Gradually, I noticed another noise playing counterpoint to the music of my horse's measured pace and spied a small cabin set aside from the road a ways. It was far too cold for scents to travel but I could see a thin thread of smoke rising from a shabbily built chimney jutting out of a sparsely thatched roof. The little structure was so mean, I was almost annoyed at its presence within my purview as I came closer. The noise resolved itself into the regular thunk of a wood axe and a tiny figure came into view, toiling mightily against a small pile of unsplit logs. I watched as the figure lay down the huge axe to wrestle another massive log onto the stump used for splitting. It was a woman. Made delicate by distance and fighting long, dark skirts, headscarf and cloak as well as deep, uncleared snow. She wearily took up the axe and rested it across the log for a moment, leaning on it and watching me pass. Her gaze was like an arrow, straight and direct and I knew that this was no peasant.   
Seemingly without my direction, my horse had slowed to a walk and began to pace towards the hut. The woman made no move to continue her chore, exhaustion etched her stance.   
I rode into the small area bare of trees directly in front of the hut, my horse forcing his way through the drifted snow. Without conscious thought, I swung down from the saddle and trudged the last few feet towards the woman. She hadn't moved, her direct gaze drawing me in like a lodestone.   
“Mistress…” I began but got no further, she scoffed at me a gave me a sardonic half smile from under her headscarf, her direct gaze challenging my words even before they had been uttered.   
“I am that, I suppose, though you've never used the word.” She pushed the headscarf off her head and face, allowing her hair to uncoil. It was Ella, but not as I knew her. She had hardened.   
Her blue eyes were challenging and frank, where they had been clever, curious and open before. Her skin was darkened from wind and sun damage and crow's feet were beginning to show at the corners of her eyes. A few strands of grey marked her dark hair. She had filled into a woman's form, where she had been only on the edge of womanhood before, but though she had broadened, she looked thin and slightly pinched. Her hands, which rested on the axe were wrapped in rags but even so, I could see the chapped and reddened spots of chilblains.   
I took all this in analytically but it was as if I was two people in one body because my emotions were running rampant. I felt joy and excitement at seeing her, confusion at how she had changed and slightly hurt by her attitude. At one remove another Char felt very differently. My other self was angry about the challenge in her gaze but also filled with dark, roiling list. I wanted to go to her, but I had not intended to move so quickly. Before she could raise a hand from her axe handle I had crossed the few steps between us and taken up a handful of her hair, wrenching her head back at a cruel angle. From the look in her eyes, she had never intended to move and had expected this behaviour. Mockery screamed from the derisive twist of her lips.  
“You don't want to have tea first, then?” She growled through clenched teeth. I could hear in her voice that I was hurting her but I was powerless to release her. I could feel my cock straining against my breeches and felt deep, horrified shame. I threw her away from me by the handful of hair and she stumbled and fell in the snow. I heard what I thought was sobbing but as she turned back to me, she wiped the snow from her face, revealing a mocking grin and impudent laughter.   
She hauled herself up and walked towards the hut, still laughing. I followed, feeling the mixture of anger and lust deepening. I was afraid of what might happen next, I felt the need to rescue her from myself but was powerless to act.   
If it was possible, the hut was meaner on the inside. There was a lean-to where Ella led me and she removed her outermost garments, shaking off the worst of the caked on snow. Underneath she wore a much mended homespun dress. Scarves and additional skirts were piled one atop the other to cover holes in underlying garments. My alter ego did not remove his cloak or boots and uncaringly trailed snow and muck into the tiny house. There were no windows to let in cold drafts in winter and insects in the summer but it was dark and smelled of cabbage, wood smoke and unwashed clothes. It took time for my eyes to adjust to the gloomy, smokey interior. Ella was standing in the middle of the floor next to a wooden box piled with blankets over straw, her bed. I brought her into my arms, she was stiff and unresponsive, her arms clutched across her chest in protection, a posture that belied her seeming bravado. I kissed he forcefully, pushing my tongue into her unresisting mouth. She was so stiff, my other self's passions seemed to leave her unmoved. I could feel his anger overcoming his lust and he pulled away from her and backhanded her onto the bed. She came up, spitting like an enraged cat, and lept for me, trying to scratch my face. A trickle of blood oozing from one nostril. I grabbed her hands, her finger crooked into claws and held them against her sides. She tried to bite at me and I pushed her back onto the bed, climbing atop her, pinning her arms with my knees. With my hands free, I undid my breeches, noticing for the first time, I had a paunchy belly riding over my belt.  
My other self climbed off Ella, carefully securing her arms as I took my weight off them then flipped her onto her front and she wildly kicked at me. Both knees took solid blows but I was not disuaded from my purpose. Muffled by her facedown pose in the straw mattress, I thought I heard curses in various languages and I laughed aloud. I freed one hand and hauled her threadbare skirts up and pushed them over her, using them to trap her wildly struggling arms, pressing them firmly to her sides. I kicked her feet apart I let her arm go, trusting in her skirt to hold her and fumbled with my cock, feeling it throb in my hand. As she fought and squirmed, panting and cursing I pushed my cock slowly into her, the blissful warmth of her curling my toes in my boots. I could hear the tearing of her skirt as she struggled against it and put my hand back on her arm, pressing her into the bed. I pounded into her harder and harder roaring with the unaccustomed exercise and fighting the inertia of my weighty body. Blissfully I ignored her grunts and eventual sobs as I took her forcefully, enjoying her struggles as stimulation to our coupling. My inner self watched in horror, unable to divorce myself from the experience, every sense alive, just as his was alive. I felt myself coming to the end of this macabre parody of the lovemaking we had shared so tenderly and spilled my seed in her, the monstrous controlling self roaring in triumph while my inner self felt the burning bile of self recriminations scald me. Horrified, I tried to pull away and couldn't, I was afraid for my sanity and horrible guilt and pain wracked me. Slowly he pulled free of her, slapping her bottom jovially and wiping his cock on the edge of her blanket before pulling up his pants. She pushed her skirt down but lay face down, not looking at me. Out of a pocket, I pulled a weighty package wrapped in paper and dropped it next to her prone form. I turned and walked out the door without a backward glance. The monstrous self did not take note of the five huddled forms in the corner behind the door. Children of various ages, uncharacteristically silent. Their gazes were a horrifying rebuke and my inner self felt it like a kick to the gut. Back in the cold crisp air, I swung back into the saddle a child of six or so was standing in the yard watching me. His tousled hair could have been my own and freckles stood out starkly on a pale but sweet face.  
“Tell her not to waste that ham, if you have a new brother in the fall, I'll bring a goat for the babe.”  
With that, I wheeled my horse and rode back onto the road, not looking back, even though my inner self longed for and dreaded another look at that ramshackle hut.

The drumming of the horse's hooves was hypnotic and with the scouring that had been done to my soul, I fell into a state of shock, numb with reaction.

I vomited everywhere. Sitting bolt upright in my camp cot, I spewed my bile over the floor. I thought I had vomited everything I had the night before, but this was now and new vomit had been conjured from the depths of my body. I heaved until there was nothing left and heaved some more. A warm hand rested on my forehead and pushed my hair off my face. From the heat of it, I could tell that I was chilled and covered in cold sweat.   
When it was over, I looked up blearily at Alverson. He did not look well, his skin was sallow and he had dark rings around his eyes. I realised this wasn't my cot after all, but his. He must have stayed all night. His valet, Dirick, bustled in and began to clear the mess off the floor mats with unobtrusive efficiency. I tried weakly to protest that I would clean it, but he ignored me. Alverson patted my cheek until I was looking at him, not Dirick, concern on his face.  
“Are you feeling alright, Sire?” I tried to work some moisture I to my mouth then gave it up as a bad job,  
“Water?” I croaked, and Alverson handed me a glass from a nearby table. I drained it and held it out for him to refill from his pitcher. I drank again then tried to find my voice. “Did you sleep at all?” I managed.   
“Not a wink,” he smiled crookedly, “one does not sleep well when one's Prince is snoring in one's bed.”  
“Was I snoring?” I smiled warmly.  
“No, actually you were mostly moaning and thrashing.” He stood and I noted that he was fully dressed for riding.  
“Has my father's party left yet?”  
“Your father's party left at first light, most of the local lords left last night. It is just us and the retainers that were left to clean up the pavilions.”  
“Good, we need to make new plans.”


	12. Chapter 12

My too-large axe swung pendulously from my hand as I positioned the log for another swing. Once it was placed just so, I took a moment to brace myself for the pain in my head that the effort of the swing would conjure. I swung the axe and it was as if I had swung it into my own face. A lightning bolt of pain shot across my skull, momentarily blinding me and I placed a steadying hand on the log to brace myself through the onslaught.  
“God's teeth! Ella!” I heard the sound of something heavy thumping into the soft snow and suddenly a warm presence was at my back, arms around me and prying the axe from my fingers. The smell of clean sweat and hickory smoke enveloped me and I knew it was Joshua behind me, not Benjamin. As the spots cleared from my vision, my complaints began as I failed to continue to just take care of some chores while I'm out. I struggled out of his warm grasp and tried to reclaim the axe but he held it out of my reach, concern etching his face.  
“Hold, lass. You'll do yourself a mischief.”  
The compulsion to do chores left me and I nearly collapsed from the relief. He had been gone nearly the whole day, setting up a fresh-killed deer in the smoke house. I had been changing Georgie's diaper while he was butchering and he had walked out the door calling to take care of a few chores over his shoulder. With the still damp and half unclothed toddler in my hands, I wasn't able to follow and get some specific chores to do or a qualifier of “don't strain yourself” and as a result, I had been unable to rest all day.  
Liza and Benjamin had left at first light, Benjamin to cut wood for a elderly neighbor and Liza to take reading and writing lesson from that same neighbor. At lunch, they switched and Benjamin would learn writing and sums and Liza would do a bit of cooking and cleaning. It was an arrangement, I had learned, that had come out of Joshua's wish for his children to be better educated than himself. With the long, mostly uneventful winter ahead, it was entertaining for one or the other to be able to read to the family of an evening from one of the three books that were in the cottage.  
Before my arrival, someone would have had to watch Georgie. Often Joshua would just stay close to home or Georgie would be watched by the elderly neighbor, but neither situation was ideal. Georgie was an active, curious toddler and distracting in the lessons and a burden to his father when he had to work outside the house. I was, it seemed, a godsend. In the first week that I stayed with them, no one had left the house for lessons, as the snow had been far too deep and it had been too cold for Benjamin and Liza to walk to the neighbor’s house. Since that time, Benjamin and Joshua had cleared a path and lessons had resumed.  
When the time came for Benjamin to resume lessons, he had become mulish and had argued that he ought to stay to look after me and Georgie. This surprised everyone as Benjamin was an avid student and I had been swiftly recovering my ability to take care of myself and contribute to the household. He and his father had argued again that night after the children and I were in bed, and though the words were heated, I was unable to make out the subject.  
The relationship between Benjamin and Joshua was often strained, but on occasion, you could see the remainder of what had been an easy comradery.  
When I had begun to recover and was able to walk short distances, I started to tentatively broach the subject of returning to Dame Olga's manor. It was at dinner, about a week after I had awoken in earnest when I ventured, “how long do you think it will be before I am able to travel back to Dame Olga's? I'm sure someone has missed me by now. We should send a note at least…” I trailed off because every face at the table had given me a variation on incredulity or humor.  
Joshua had replied, “Oh, lovey, I thought you had worked it out already, there is no leaving this village until spring now.” He chuckled, “you were this village's last import before the pass closed.”  
My first response was anger and as I helped clear up dinner, I was in such a towering rage that I had to step outside the cottage to cool myself after I nearly trapped Georgie's fingers between two plates while clearing them. I was angry that I was trapped here against my will, but soon my anger was worn down by guilt. These people had been good to me, cared for me when I was injured and fed me from their own pot, even when I was too ill to help out. I asked myself what I had expected Joshua to do. He could have left me in the snow to die or taken me somewhere, but he would have been risking that the pass would be clogged with snow by the time he got there. He would have been cut off from his children for the season with no way to contact them or provide the last necessary supplies he had had with him. I reasoned that there was nothing for me at Olga's that I was eager to return to. Without warning, my temper turned to deep sadness and I began to weep uncontrollably. Benjamin had come outside to fetch me and had wrapped me in his own cloak. I had been unable to help myself and had wept into his sturdy, homespun shoulder until the cold had driven us back inside. Joshua was busy putting Georgie to bed and Benjamin sat with me in front of the fire, layering blankets on me and running his huge hand down my back in a soothing gesture. He talked quietly about inconsequential things until my weeping stopped then offered me a cup of tea.  
“I know this is a pretty humble place,” he began awkwardly, “you are probably used to much better, living in a manor, like you do.” He pushed a soft curl off his forehead, only to have it flop back into his eyes. He was so earnest.  
“This is a much nicer place to live,” I had said, “you are lucky to have a place of your own and no one to lord over you.” I sipped at my tea and watched the fire.  
“What is your manor like?” He asked curiously, then hastened to add, “you don't have to tell me if you don't want!”  
When I looked at him, his face was shining with interest and concern that his question would be taken poorly. I giggle wetly and told him all about the manor, mostly about the staff and how large and beautifully decorated it was. I avoided talking about my step-family and he didn't ask, just soaking up what I had to say like a sponge. I hadn't disabused them of the idea that I was a runaway servant, because for the most part, I was.  
For nights after that, we had talked about places near and far that I had seen, people that we knew and ideas. The words seemed to fill him with longing for places that were different from here. I'm sure he did not believe that I had truly met ogres and giants, but he never doubted me to my face.  
Just as I grew close to Benjamin in the evening, I grew close to Joshua during the day. We were companionable while completing the household chores and worked seamlessly as a team. He always had a joke or story to tell and was very solicitous of my wellbeing. He asked my opinion of his plans and actually listened to my answers.  
And, as I grew closer to them, their fights grew worse. When I would retire to bed with Liza and Georgie, I would often hear them quietly arguing in the other room. Frequently, when I rose in the morning, Benjamin would be asleep on the hearth instead of sleeping in the other bed with his father.  
With all of us in such close quarters, our tempers frayed easily and even Liza was snappish by the time they were able to return to their lessons.  
But that had been days ago. Now I was swaying with fatigue under Joshua's fearful gaze.  
“I'm sorry lass,” Joshua whispered, concern for me pouring from him. “What ever possessed you to try chopping wood with your injury.” He steadied me then pulled off his cloak, draping me in it and picked me up in his arms. I struggled against him, I could walk to the house after all. My struggles ended with a firm, “let it be, lass,” from him and I let him carry me indoors.  
He laid me in the chair by the fire kneeling next to me as Georgie put up a hew and cry of happy greeting, leaping on his father's back and covering his face with slobbery kisses. Joshua absently patted the boy and gazed at me intently.  
“Are you addled, girl, you could have killed yourself,” he said in a low voice to me when Georgie had returned to his toys.  
“I know,” I began to cry with frustration and he stroked my shoulder then my cheek, trying to understand and sooth me. “I ran out of light chores,” I sniffed.  
At this he finally took a good look around him and his eyes widened with shock. Every dish was clean and put away, every spare piece of clothing was clean and drying by the fire. Dinner was cooking in the large iron pot in the fireplace. The floor was swept, carpets beaten and cleaned, fireplace cleaned and a new fire laid. Even the bedding was airing and the straw mattresses had been repacked into their bed boxes. I was certain that the cottage had never been so clean since it was built. Every spider had been evicted, every dust bunny displaced, every surface dusted, washed and the wood oiled and gleaming. Every sock had been darned, each piece of clothing neatly mended. As I had told him, I had run out of tasks long before he had returned.  
“My God, lass, you do the work of ten men!” He sounded awestruck and I smiled at him weakly. Every muscle I had was aching, and my head was thundering against my skull. “I will make you some tea.” He did so, marvelling at the shining cleanliness of the kettle as he filled it and hung it to heat next to the soup pot. “I've never seen the place so clean, even when my wife…” he cut off abruptly and concentrated on scooping tea leaves into the pot.  
“What was she like?” I asked gently and he sighed before turning back to me.  
“She was very much like you, smart and funny, hardworking and full of life. She even had the same tiny feet,” he laughed as he looked at my foot protruding from the cloak. “Green eyes, dark hair, you could be her cousin at least.”  
“When I met her, she was living with the Aunty, who is related to her somehow, but I've never really determined how. That was when I first settled up here and built my house. She was very kind and would come tend the garden and the chickens while I was working on the house. We worked well together and one day, she just asked me if I wanted her to live with me.”  
“She told me that she thought love was like a fire, it starts small and you feed it all the time and it grows, but if it was too big too soon, it would consume everything then burn out. Well, I had been looking to see if she was looking at me for months and trying to work up the courage to court her and here she had saved me the trouble all together.”  
“She always had trouble bearing children though, she lost many babies between the ones we have, that's why they are so far apart in age. Then Georgie came along and that was it. She passed the next day.” He was staring into the fire with the teapot in his hand, watching the kettle, absentmindedly tracing the glazed flower on the side of the crockery with his finger. Then he shook himself out of his reverie and smiled at me, filling the teapot and setting it on the table to steep.  
There was a clattering in the yard, then and Benjamin and Liza burst in the door with the dog at their heels, bringing cold air and a flurry of snowflakes with them. They began to unbundle themselves and Benjamin turned to us, “the Aunty came to Granny Nicol's to let her know about a storm brewing, we'll all be snowed in this time tomorrow, she says.”  
“I've never known the Aunty to be wrong about weather witching,” Joshua stated before rising and retrieving his cloak from me. “Looks like you had the right idea, lass.” He swirled the cloak around him and winked at me roguishly before heading out the door. I heard the sounds of chopping start up shortly after.  
Benjamin was not far behind, plucking up his unstrung bow in a mittened hand and retying his hat. He gave me a serious look and a nod before exiting the house. Liza left right behind them with the bucket of animal feed and her milk bucket and stool. Georgie, Bear and I were left alone and he climbed up onto my lap and promptly fell asleep while the dog curled himself in front of the fire.  
I stroked Georgie's silky baby hair and thought about what Joshua had told me. Georgie had to be over a year old already, I was surprised that Joshua hadn't sought a new wife in that time. The people in the village I knew were very phlegmatic about seeking a spouse just to have help with the household and the children. There would have been a lineup of spinsters and young widows down the mountain six months to the day after his wife's passing if this had been the village back home. Joshua would have been considered quite a catch with a house, cow and strong, healthy children. Besides, Benjamin would likely want to make a match of his own soon and he wouldn't lack for prospects either, tall, smart, handsome and good natured as he was. Then it would just be Liza and Georgie at home, and as competent as she was, Liza was only a child. Mandy had always said, 'no good comes of babes raising babes.’  
I stayed that way, with Georgie on my lap until the others returned, easing my aching head and muscles by dozing under the boy’s solid warmth.  
Benjamin had some luck with his snares but hadn't managed to shoot anything. The front door was stacked around with a short palisade of chopped wood, so the snow wouldn't block the door and so we wouldn't have to venture all the way to the woodpile. All the animals were cushioned in fresh straw and fed to bursting in the lean-to and a rope was tied from the lean-to to the front door so anyone could find their way, even in a blizzard. We hunkered down, ensuring that the fire was well fed and ate the stew I had prepared earlier. The whole family was subdued by the ever increasing howl of the storm that beat against the sturdy walls. Everyone turned in early to save candle light for the days of the storm. The premature darkness had us all yawning into our stew anyway. Benjamin washed the dishes while I dried and Joshua put Georgie and Liza to bed.  
“Would you tell me again about the gnomes you met?” he asked quietly.  
“It was only a very brief meeting,” I prevaricated.  
“A very brief meeting is still longer than I've ever spent with a gnome,” he wheedled, dimpling at me.  
“Well, a baby gnome was lost from its parents and I calmed him and returned him to his mother. I know a gnomish greeting so I was able to calm the baby enough so he would come with me.” I recounted briefly.  
“Where did you learn a gnomish greeting?” he asked, looking curiously down at me.  
“Um, from a parrot at the Royal Menagerie. The parrot keeper liked me, so he would tell me what the parrots were saying.”  
“You've been in the Royal Menagerie?!” he exclaimed, before lowering his voice again. “I heard they have ogres, do they?”  
“Yes, but they are really well guarded, you can't get very close to them at all.”  
I tried my best to steer the conversation away from me and towards the things I had seen and learned like how to say hello in gnomish and ogre and similar things. When the dishes were done, Benjamin went to bed with a few choice words in a half-dozen new languages and was absolutely delighted.  
I went to join the children and found that the bed was fully occupied by Liza, Georgie and Joshua, who had clearly fallen asleep while administering the goodnight cuddle. I was not the only person who had had a long and tiring day.  
Rather than disturbing them, I took a blanket off the end of the bed and wrapped it around myself, cuddling into the embrace of the fireside chair. I gazed deeply into the shifting fire shadows as the painted themselves over the walls and thought about the last few weeks.  
I still hadn't gotten up the courage to read the letter that had sent me out into the storm in the first place, partly due to my father's penchant for thoughtless orders in writing and partly a lingering discomfort caused by the injury I had sustained in trying to get it read the first time. If I did read the letter and my father ordered me to go somewhere, I could die out in the snow trying to get through a winter-closed pass with my bare hands. I wasn't ready to ask Benjamin or Joshua to read it for me. It wasn't that I didn't trust them, in general, but I had learned anyone could be tempted by the prospect of my absolute obedience.  
I pulled out the letter and looked at the smudged outer surface with equal parts curiosity and mild nausea at the thought of what could be inside. Was it orders for me to marry father's rich northern friend, was it a different marriage offer? Was it just an injunction to behave well with me step-family? That last made me grimace with distaste.  
I had considered before that father's rich friend would be a possible choice for marriage if I was pregnant. I thought it through again and decided it was increasingly unlikely to work out as it seemed I would be trapped in this village until spring. I began calculating weeks in my head and concluded that if I was pregnant and the pass reopened in March I would already be four months along by then. It would be far past the time when I could marry and pass off a child as my husband's. I fretted, what was I going to do! If I was pregnant and wanted a husband, barring an extremely early spring, I would have to choose someone here…  
In fact I would be almost a month along now…  
My brain ground to a halt as the thought struck me with deceptive slowness, I bolted upright in the chair. If I was pregnant, my magic book told me I would have no courses this month. My courses would have begun...some not so quick math...a week ago, when Benjamin and Liza started taking classes again.  
I thought hard, what were the other early signs...mood swings, I had cried all over Benjamin after being incandescently angry. Tender breasts... I grabbed my chest and squeezed, then winced away at the dull ache. Nausea… I had terrible nausea but I had chalked it up to the head injury. Weariness...I had fallen asleep in a chair just this afternoon.  
I clutched my arms across my middle and rocked myself back and forth. All of a sudden, my hypothetical worst scenario had become reality.


	13. Chapter 13

I surveyed a deep kettle filled to the brim with scalding water, soap and dirty clothes, with deep distrust. I quickly took a sip from a mug of tea left over from breakfast to allay my nausea at the contents of the pot.   
It wasn't that the clothes were more filthy than normal dirty clothes, but my weak stomach and general distaste for the chore were conspiring to clear out the eggs and toast I had been able to get down this morning.  
I sighed deeply and took up the huge wooden laundry spoon, vigorously stirring the noisome cauldron. I breathed through my mouth so as not to smell the laundry and tried not to look at the greasy, yellow slick of soap bubbles that floated to the edges of the pot. I chanted the names of nice smelling things in whatever language I could think of them in, trying to distract myself. I thought I had a handle on myself when a soiled diaper floated to the surface.   
I managed to make it across the room to the empty, dirty porridge pot before losing my breakfast. I heard the door bang open behind me but was unable to stop vomiting.   
“Oh, lass,” I heard from behind me before a huge hand cupped my forehead and held my hair back from my dripping face.   
When I was finished, he handed me a handkerchief to wipe my face, looking me over with concern.   
“The Aunty was sure you'd be done sicking up after a week or two. Maybe I should call her in to take a look at you…”  
“No, I'm fine.” I stated curtly, adding his soiled kerchief to the pile of dirty laundry next to the full pot and picking up the porridge pot to empty outside.   
When I returned he was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his face.   
“You needn't fear the Aunty, lass.” he stated with a concerned quirk to his brow. “If you’re still sicking up, there might be somewhat amiss with your head yet.”  
I couldn't meet his gaze, I was afraid if I did, this calm, gentle man would draw every secret from me. I settled back to the laundry kettle, the suds no longer sickening me now that my breakfast was evacuated. Unbidden, tears began to roll down my cheeks, spilling into the kettle. My traitorous emotions jumping from fear to sadness with startling suddenness.  
“What is the matter, lass? You've been as quick to weep as to smile this whole week long.” He was crouching next to me, his huge hand tentatively patting my shoulder. I just cried harder. He was so kind and I was lying to him, it was terrible.   
He grabbed me by the other shoulder, forcing me to face him, his kindly face taking on sterner lines.  
“We can't have this lass, tell me what's amiss, why are you so upset?”  
I stiffened, trying to fight the compulsion to tell him. I turned my face away, biting my lip. Tears spilled from my eyes, dripping onto his shirt cuff and my complaints began to twist my gut. Then I broke.  
“I'm pregnant and cursed.”   
A long minute passed, I could see the shock in his eyes and he slowly withdrew his hands from my shoulders. He fished out another handkerchief and pressed it firmly to my lip. A stinging sensation told me I had bitten too hard and cut my lip open.   
In a low voice, husky with emotions, he said simply, “I can help with part of that, mayhap.” His huge work roughened thumb traveled across my cheek, rubbing away my tears. “Will you marry me, lovely Ella?” I was struck dumb but I could see very clearly, this wasn't his first time thinking of this particular question.   
When I didn't answer right away, he began to count off his reasons, “Georgie needs a mother and you are good with him and with Liza. She shouldn't be mothering already at her age. I need a wife, and I certainly couldn't find a cleverer or more hardworking wench within a fortnight's travel.” He paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “I would raise the child as my own.” I looked up into his eyes then, this was not what I had expected. “I won't beat you like you got back at your manor house, and I'm surely fond of you,” his eyes softened and I was then sure that he was more than fond of me.   
He gazed at me, his eyes telling me more than his words ever could. He rose to his feet and pulled me up too, guiding me towards a chair and pushing me gently into it. He bustled about then and returned with a new made pot of tea and two mugs. Taking the other chair, he fixed me with a penetrating look. “How far along are you?” I squirmed in my chair, embarrassed. “Come now lass, you think I run a farm and have three children of my own without picking up some women's lore,” he chided gently.   
I sighed heavily. “About a month at midwinter.”   
“As I thought, lass, you'll be well and truly along by the time the pass clears. Do you think the lad will have you back after so long apart and you nigh to bursting with child?”  
I couldn't go to him anyway, I thought miserably.   
Joshua could clearly see the misery and patted my hand gently. “You don't have to make a choice on the instant, but you should make one soon, I doubt the Aunty will handfast us if you are showing all round bellied.”   
“What if I choose not to marry you,” I asked boldly, snatching my hand away. I was stung at the chiding tone in his voice.  
“Well, that is your choice, of course. This village doesn't take well to unwed mothers, they wouldn't let you stay, I think, once spring comes. I could take you back to your manor, but I doubt your lady would have you back.” He sipped his tea thoughtfully. “It isn't an easy life here, but I think you could come to love it.” He sat forward in his chair, and ran a lock of my hair through his fingers, “I could live easily with you at my side.” He smiled broadly at me and a surprising flush rose under his weathered skin.   
The door banged open and we sprang apart like naughty children. Bear and Liza tramped in bringing fridgid air and snow clods with them. “The Aunty says we're in for another blow near morning,” Liza announced peremptorily as she took up her bucket of feed. “Benjamin is chopping wood already.” She exited again as swiftly as she had come in. I stood to go help with the storm chores but Joshua grabbed my hand.  
“Think on what I've said, lass. Go out and walk about before we are blown in again, the children and I can take care of the storm work.” He stood up and was suddenly very close to me. Before I could back away he had gathered me up in his strong, embrace. One arm went about my waist and his other hand caressed the back of my neck as he bent his face close to mine. He kissed me long and gently but I could feel the heat of him burning into me. This was a man who had been without a wife too long.

I went outside when he released me without looking back at him. I was confused and angry. Was this what I wanted? I already knew I didn't love Joshua, not with the hot urgent passion that had sprung up so easily between Char and me. But he would take care of me, and provide for me and my baby. As a child of nobility, this wasn't something I had ever had to consider seriously. The necessity made me irrationally angry. I stomped out into the yard and onto the path that led to the rest of the village houses, venting my anger through physical effort. I was panting before long and when I stopped moving my thoughts began to swirl again. Slowly I began walking back to the house, more careful on the icy track back than I had been.   
I was passing the woodshed and noticed that I couldn't hear any chopping. Come to think on it, I hadn't heard any chopping on the way by the first time either. Then I heard a faint, ragged moan. With alarm I hurried to the shack, sure that Benjamin had injured himself and was even now lying bleeding. Before I could touch the door to open it, I heard the moan again and...my name! Cautiously now I sidled around the side of the hut where I could see through a chink in the wood of the wall.   
When my sight adjusted to the gloomy interior I could clearly see Benjamin hunched in the corner frantically running his hand up and down his cock. As I watched he stiffened, moaning my name again and pearly white goo shot from him in glistening ropes. His body relaxed against the wall of the shed and I took an involuntary step back, knocking over a hoe into a stack of feed buckets. Swift as lightning he was out of the shed, catching me trying to escape my damning spy hole.   
“Did you.. oh, Ella…” he began as I backed away from him towards the house.  
I turned to sprint inside and he shouted, “Stop, Ella, let me explain!”  
I stopped as if my feet were glued down and my momentum carried me over into the snow. He, not expecting me to stop, tripped on me and fell over atop me. He crouched over me, holding his arms out to the sides as if he would prevent my escape, but I was stuck here until he had said his piece. When he saw that I would stay put, he slowly lowered his arms.  
“Please, Ella, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I just.” He stopped, putting his thoughts together. “I want to be with you, I want you to stay with me. I love you.” That last came out in a strangled whisper.   
I was in no mood for this, though. I walloped him in the arm, “get off me!”  
He did, crawling to his feet and pulling me up out of the snow. When he tried to brush me off, I slapped his hands away.   
He looked so injured, resigned that I now hated him forever and would leave. “It's because of my father, isn't it? You love him, don't you?”  
“No, I don't love your father,” his face took on a joyous hue, “but I might have to marry him anyway” his face fell again, crushing despair written in every line.  
“Why would you marry him if you don't love him? How could you do that!” He looked so bewildered, so hurt, like a kicked dog.  
“Well, I might have to,” I took a deep breath, “because I'm pregnant.”  
His face went through so many emotions it was almost comical. Confusion, disbelief, sadness, then rage. And the rage stayed. He stalked back to the shed, stiff legged and came out with the huge wood axe.   
“You lecherous old demon,” he roared as broke into a run for the game trail.   
“Wait, I pleaded, where are you going?” I was still under the injunction to ‘stop’.   
“Benjamin, stop, it wasn't him.” I screeched. I screamed at the top of my lungs, howling for Benjamin to come back. Liza came out of the coop, an saw me yelling.  
“I have to get Benjamin, tell me to go find Benjamin,” I shrieked at her.   
“I thought Benjamin was in the woodshed,” she said uncertainly.  
“Just tell me to go!” I railed at her. She looked so small and frightened.  
“Go, then.”   
As I sprinted by her down the game trail, yelling back at her, “Go get the Aunty, someone might be hurt!”  
I could hear yelling ahead and sped up, bursting into the clearing around the smokehouse.   
“...kill you!” shouted Benjamin as he took a massive, ungainly swing at his father with the axe.  
“Stop!” I shouted at them, stumbling forward.  
Joshua stepped easily aside, looking grimly at his son. “I told you, boy, this will not help any of us, let’s talk this out…” He was cut off as he had to dodge out of the way again.   
“How dare you touch her!” Benjamin yelled as he hefted his axe for another pass. “You knew I loved her but you just wanted her for yourself, you selfish bastard,” his rage seemed to hurl him bodily at Joshua.   
“Stop, stop please!” I pleaded from beside the shed, tears running down my face.   
For a precious moment, Benjamin was distracted and his father got a hand on the axe, just below the murderous head, yanking it from Benjamin's hands and pushing him forcefully away. His boot caught on a chunk of frozen snow and he fell backwards, arms windmilling and bashed his head on a tree stump, half submerged in the snow.   
Joshua and I both stood, silent and stunned, looking at Benjamin's unmoving body before Joshua let out a howl of grief. He dropped the axe and ran to his son's side, hovering over his prone form, fearful of doing further damage. My hands were over my face and it took long moments for me to realize I was chanting under my breath, ‘this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real!’   
“Oh, my boy!” Joshua was weeping openly, rocking on his knees, gently patting Benjamin's face. “Get the Aunty,’ he yelled, his voice choked with tears.  
“The Aunty is here already,” came a calm, collected voice from behind me and I leapt out of the way. A stout woman in a rumpled collection of warm weather gear bustled past me and I realized through my haze of horror that I recognized her. She was one of the other fairies who had been at the giant's wedding with Lucinda. I shrank from her, did she recognize me?  
“He's dead,” shouted Joshua, “how could I have let a little whore wench come between us,” he wailed.   
He turned his red rimmed gaze on me and yelled, “get out! Go home to your mistress and your lover! Go to Hell for all I care! Just get out of my valley, you ungrateful bitch!”   
I ran, then. Away from the little cottage in the clearing, away from the tiny village and towards the vast, forbidding mountains.


	14. Chapter 14

We had ridden at full speed back along our path of march from the day before, managing to avoid my father's party and turned down the road to Dame Olga's manor before midnight. When we arrived, the whole house was dark and even the kitchen door was barred, the windows black. The snow was coming down very heavily and when my pounding on the kitchen door produced no answering presence, we went to the stable to roust out some care for our mounts at least. The stable hands were very solicitous of our tired mounts and our sweaty, bedraggled crew as well. None of us had gotten a decent sleep due to various over-indulgences of the night before and my anxiety, even as tightly reigned as I kept it, was making my men antsy and uncomfortable.   
The grooms were reluctant to go up to the main house and wake the servants as this was the purview of the head groom. He was missing at the moment and it was suspected he had gone to the pub in the nearby village and would not return until morning now, due to the weather. After discussion amongst the men and, I suspected, drawing of lots, one man was sent to the front door with me and my troupe in tow to inform the house of our arrival. The hall boy opened the great front door, bleary-eyed before coming fully awake in surprise at the grand persons in our party. He bowed us in then ran to retrieve the head housekeeper from her bed. The groom who had been our guide, took the opportunity to slink out and none of us noticed his going. The boy returned on the run, slowing to a walk as he rounded a corner into our line of vision. I heard Henry stifle a snicker, cut off by what I assumed was Kieran's elbow in his gut.   
“The housekeeper... says she will...be along directly, and…. to ask you gentlemen... to await her in the library,” he panted, trying unsuccessfully to get his breathing under control.  
“Thank you, fine sir, lead the way.” We followed the panting child into the library and he hastily divested us of our cloaks and lit a brace of candles before stoking the fire.  
“Be a good lad and wake the cook, we could certainly use some food,” Alverston ordered on the way into the indicated room, “and hot drinks,” he added over his shoulder. The boy nodded and left at a jog.  
Within a few minutes, a severely thin woman I vaguely recognized from earlier visits came into the library, a squad of bleary maid servants in her wake carrying night vittles and drinks.   
“My Lordth,” she curtsied very deeply and the maids behind her did the same before setting down their burdens and taking up our wet and rumpled outdoor gear. “The ladieth of the houth are not at home, how may we be of servith?” It was very difficult to keep my composure under the combined onslaught of her pompous correctness, heavy lisp and my own fatigue, but I managed manfully.  
“I came to see the Lady Eleanor, actually. The same as when I came twice before.” I said it mildly enough, but the housekeeper blanched visibly, even in the ruddy firelight.  
“Thee is... thleeping, I could not pothibly wake her at thith hour.” She managed to look disapproving as well as greasily obsequious. “I'm thure thee will thee you on the morrow, thould you gentlemen care to thtay.”  
“That is well, we would dare not risk ourselves and our beasts in this fell weather in any case,” Alverston put in, idly sipping a cup of sherry.  
“Very good my Lordth, I will have roomth made up at oneth.” She bustled out, her squad of maids behind her except one who was clearing the last of the ash from the hastily relit grate.  
“Well, this should be easily sorted, then. You see your wench, make some sort of arrangement and we are on to Ayortha with no one the wiser, only a few days delayed.” Alverston raised his glass to me in a toast, good humor and satisfaction radiating from him.   
“We shall see what the case is here, I'm not sure it will be so simple,” I opined, digging out a roast beef sandwich from the pile on the plate. We had taken few stops today and I was only now regaining my appetite after the nights indulgences. I was starving.   
When the plates were reduced to only crumbs and the tea and hot toddies had all been drunk, the maids returned to guide us to our night's lodgings. I was led up the stairs by the plumply pretty maid who had cleaned the grate, but she looked to be all seriousness now. She let me into a severe, dark room and turned down the bed for me. She went to the door then hesitated, uncertainty written in her posture and face. She looked as if she was about to speak but then Kieran bustled in with the remains of my baggage and preremptorily dismissed her. She fled, looking back at me over her shoulder.  
Kieran and I fell into our respective beds with the exhaustion of a day's long travel, and for me, the tension of my concerns. I lay in the darkness thinking about Ella, under the same roof as me as I lay there.   
I hadn't told my men everything, the fewer who knew about our more intimate activities, the better. I was sure Alverston knew or suspected my quest and was baffled by it. In my place, he would have considered himself well out of the fray and run as fast as he could to Ayortha. I had been raised to responsibility, though and that certainty that I would do the right thing, or at least attempt to, had been a guiding principle in my life to date. If I abandoned the woman I loved in this hour of her need, I was certainly not fit to rule. With the comfort of my purpose firmly in mind, I finally slept. 

I awoke in the grey light of dawn to a light touch on the arm. Blearily, I saw the plump maid from last night. She had a finger held up to her mouth in a shushing gesture and I quietly swung my feet out of bed, silently crossing the room with her away from the open door to Kieran's attached chamber.   
“My Lord,” she curtsied nervously.  
Somewhat impatient due to lack of sleep, I gave her a curt nod and gestured her to continue.   
“Lady Ella is not here, my Lord.”  
“Where is she,” I asked sharply.  
“Well, we don't know, my Lord. Georgette was going to give you a cock and bull excuse…” she trailed off, reddening deeply, “pardon my plain speech, my Lord. She was going to try to make you go away.”  
“When did she leave? Where could she have gone?” I gripped the woman by the arms, willing her to produce Ella.  
“Well she was here at lunchtime yesterday, she did the dishes with me, but then no one saw her all afternoon. She didn't come to dinner, either. When we went to fetch her for you, she wasn't in her room.”   
Absurdly, my mind fixed on only one part of that recitation, “she did the dishes with you?”  
“Yes, yesterday after lunch. Dame Olga and her daughters and guests had left for Lord Gow's manor at that time and it was only the staff lunch we had to clean up.”  
“Why didn't she accompany her family to Lord Gow's?”  
“Well milady and the young mistresses already had staff going with them, their maids and secretaries and dressers…” she trailed off as I stared at her uncomprehending. Her face scrunched up in concern then she stated baldly for my benefit, “the Lady Ella enjoys no status here, she has been serving as a drudge with me since her father left after the wedding. I'm sorry, my Lord, that you did not know.”  
I was shocked, why hadn't she told me about her plight? I shook my head, I could answer that question for myself, she was embarrassed. I remembered the cinders in her hair the day she had waited in my carriage and grimaced at the thought of her cleaning grates and being demeaned by her family.   
“Do you think she's run away, then?”  
“Mayhap, my Lord. She seemed particularly friendly with the cook at her old place, mayhap she went to drudge for her.” She shrugged her ample shoulders.   
“I thought the cook was employed here now, I saw her coming in with her gear not two days gone,” I protested.  
“The mistress dismissed her over a horrendous scene with...well, she may have gotten above her station,” she cut off abruptly. “I heard she had gone back to her previous house to serve a diplomat and his family who live there now." She shrugged then added, "I must be getting on with my duties before the housekeeper comes seeking me.”  
I nodded, thanking her profusely and pawed through my discarded packs for a coin to press on her.  
I crawled back under the covers once she had completed her duties but not to sleep. Rather, I tried to come up with a plan. I decided, I would divide my men so as to take best advantage of the time before my father heard I was still in the kingdom and had not continued on to Ayortha as I was supposed to. I would leave Alverston, Dirick and Vance here in case the ladies returned from his father's house. Kieran, Henry, Lorne and I would track down the cook at Ella's father's house and find out if Ella had run home.   
I dozed then, waiting for breakfast to be announced and for Kieran to wake me in earnest.

When we descended to the lavish dining room for breakfast, I was idly curious what tale I would be told about Ella's whereabouts.  
We made it through nearly the entirety of the surpassingly plain and homely breakfast before the housekeeper made her entrance. Her beaky nose was held at a determined angle and she was clearly expecting opposition in this opening gambit.   
“My Lordth,” she hesitated, “the Lady took thick in the night and ith unable to entertain vithitorth today.”  
I had decided not to reveal how much I knew and feigned shock and concern with the others.  
Before anything more could be asked or said on the subject, the hall boy walked timidly into the room, bowing to our assembly and the housekeeper in turn before announcing there was a merchant at the door bearing a message from Sir Peter.  
“Exthcuthe me, my Lordth,” she said before sailing pretentiously out of the room.   
All of us pretended idleness until she was out of sight then crowded around the open door. This manor’s public rooms all opened on a central hall and the conversation at the door was easily discernible from where we lurked.   
“Good morning mistress, I come to retrieve the parcels for Sir Peter.” A booming, jovial voice echoed down the tiled entry.  
“I'm thorry my good man, I know nothing of any parthels…”  
“Ah, well, then I have need of your cook, Mandy. I have a letter”  
“Thee ith no longer employed in thith houthhold.” At this point I interrupted, coming briskly out of the dining room.  
“Good sir, I know where the cook is currently employed and my men and I were going there this very morning, might we escort you?”  
“Of course, of course, how very kind of you my Lord.”   
The man bowed deeply to me and the housekeeper simpered at me, “Oh, thir, you could not pothibly act ath guide to thith gentleman…” I cut her off abruptly, I wasn't going to let this man get away without speaking to him privately, on the off chance that Sir Peter's missive included the whereabouts of Ella.   
“It is quite alright, we were just about to leave, are you prepared sir?”   
“Yes, my Lord, I need only the Lady Eleanor's effects then a package held by the cook so that I can be on my way.”  
“Of course,” I gestured in a peremptory way I never would have used with anyone, if this housekeeper wouldn't have leapt on any sign of losing my grip on the situation.   
In short order, myself and my valet and two men were garbed for riding and Ella's meager belongings had been retrieved from the bowels of the house. Alverston, was on guard for the return of the women and would seek us in that eventuality by sending Vance.   
As the merchant stowed Ella's chest on a pack beast that formed part of quite a sizeable company, I asked him a few questions and briefed all my men on the fact that Ella was not in fact sick and not in fact here.   
It turned out, the merchant had seen Sir Peter four days ago, when that man had set out to the north. He had paid the merchant in advance to have Ella's things brought north and the girl herself if she were at home, but the merchant had not thought she would be. I asked him why not and he told me that Sir Peter has sent a letter to her informing her to leave on the instant with just a few groomsmen and the clothes on her back as she was required in the north before the winter solstice.   
I asked why Sir Peter had not just brought his daughter along to begin with, but he shrugged and told me, “Sir Peter is a born salesman, he likes to set the stage for his best sales before the wares appear.” He smirked broadly, and my stomach churned at the thought of Ella being sold to a north man like a piece of exotic furniture.   
Having attended to the chest, the merchant swung astride his horse and he and my troupe rode out of the yard, leaving the majority of his pack train to await our return.   
When we rode up to Ella's house, it was different than I recalled. There was a spirited snow ball fight taking place at the side of the house and boys of seemingly every age were cavorting there. The fight broke off when they noticed the riders and they ran alongside us, keeping pace with the horses to the front of the house, laughing and gamboling.   
The change in the noise brought out some of the house staff and I recognized most of them from times I had visited Ella here.   
Mandy was the last to come out and she called to the pack of boys in a singsong language I recognized as the language of the north men from Drinnen. The children piled into the kitchen door and Mandy swept a deep curtsy towards us. I swung down off my horse and took Mandy's hands, raising her up “do you know where Ella is?” I asked bluntly.  
“She isn't at the manor house?” Mandy looked startled and a flicker of other emotions crossed her face. Then as if a shutter came down, her face blanked and a pucker of concentration appeared between her brows. Finally she came back to herself and intoned quietly, “I don't know where she is.”   
Without any hesitation, the merchant intruded on our moment, his huge ruddy face pressing between us, “I might be of help!” He flourished a stained and creased letter from inside his coat and presented it to her. I saw her name written on the flap in a crabbed hand in the moment before she ripped it open.   
She scanned it quickly then started for the door of the kitchen, “you gentlemen make yourselves at home and have some speculaas, I must make some preparations.”   
She returned minutes later with a horse panier and a sack on her back, I tried to protest around a mouthful of cookie, “you can'thf come wiff ush!” I swallowed and tried again. “We have to travel quickly, she has a head start on us. Besides, you have responsibilities here, do you not?”  
“I understand, of course I will travel as quickly as you, I swear it and I have already sent for someone to cover for me here. She needs me.” I looked at her serious, wrinkled little face and sighed. Her grey hair stood up all around her head like a halo and for a moment I thought I smelled baking bread. One of the little boys gave a little moan and rattled off a beseeching question in his lilting tongue. She answered in kind and a pleading moan rose from the whole company of little boys, it seemed she would be missed here.  
“Alright, you know her best, maybe you will find her when we cannot.” I motioned to my men to return to the horses. Mandy took the merchant aside and spoke to him softly and he nodded and followed her to another room, coming back with a loaded trunk and a rolled carpet, which he loaded on the mule he had brought for the purpose.   
When we were all well on the road back to Dame Olga's manor, I pulled my horse up beside Mandy's and asked about the letter, “oh, it is a lot of Sir Peter's nonsense, but he was cleverer than we gave him credit for. Ella and I had squirrelled away some of her mother's best clothes and a few other odds and ends and thought he hadn't noticed. Well, he has gone and asked that I pull them out of hiding as part of her dowry.” She looked at me speculatively, “I imagine you are not keen on her marrying a north man.”   
“She can't….. I won't….” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I suppose if she wants to marry some north man, I can't prevent her, but I would hope she would consider… We will have to see what the situation is.” My stomach rolled over on the thoughts of what the situation might be. We knew her father had summoned her without consulting her, but perhaps she was already aware of the peril she might be in, that she might be pregnant, and was eagerly headed north to save herself from bearing my child while unmarried. She probably thought I was blissfully unaware of her plight and riding to Ayortha without a care. I ground my teeth, if it was possible, I would give her a choice. I would make sure I was there for her.  
When we returned to the manor, I was greeted with the sight of my men, except for Alverson, ready for travel, mounts tacked and blowing in the dim overcast morning light.  
Briefly I told them we were bound north after Ella. All the way to Drinnen if needs must. Vance fetched Alverson and he caught up the gist of the conversation quickly. While the caravan was engaged in turning itself towards the road and mounting up, Alverston took me aside.  
"Sire, I do not wish to question you unduly, but have you considered that she may be better off just marrying the northern Lord?" I must have looked foreboding because he went on hurriedly, "though, truly they are coarse, barbaric people in the north and no fine lady would be comfortable in such company, but…" he gulped then continued, somewhat deferentially, "she would be provided for, you could continue on your way without any further delay, no mess, no fuss." A look of intensity swept over his face as another thought came to him, "and their Majesties will not be any the wiser about your…" he trailed off, gulped again, "indiscretion..." he squeaked.  
I looked around hurriedly to ensure that no one was close enough to overheat, especially Mandy, but she was engaged in frowning over Ella's belongings in her chests.  
"I will make this clear only once," I glowered into his face, trying to impress my seriousness on him, "I will not abandon her, she will be with me if that is her desire." I poked him hard in the center of the chest, "you would do well to mark how a gentleman treats a lady." I turned to my horse in disgust, mounting and calling to my men to lead out the caravan.


	15. Chapter 15

We faced bitter disappointment in the first hours as our trail led us to the passage through the mountains only to find that the blizzard of the night before had cut us off completely from an easy week-long ride to Drinnen. This would force a detour for us and the caravan that would take weeks. At the pace of the caravan, they would likely not make it to Drinnen for the solstice. Thankfully, my party was much faster moving.  
At the outset, I feared that Mandy would lag behind or suffer from the pace I set, but she, though ungainly in the saddle and seemingly frail in her oversized winter wardrobe, never seemed to weary and not a word of complaint passed her lips. When we would set up camp for the night, she even elected to cook for us each evening, concocting from the meanest gleanings a seemingly endless variety of delectable vittles.   
After an interminable sulk over my harsh words, Alverston returned to the relatively comfortable comradeship we had enjoyed before. He even began to unbend enough to enjoy a measure of goodwill with our low-born companions. This relationship was limited, however. Whenever one of them addressed him too familiarly, or made a joke at his expense he would stiffen and make an excuse to leave. He would not address Mandy at all, except to give an order, and for her part, though she obeyed readily enough, her temperament towards the young lord was icy enough to rival the weather.   
We were well supplied, having been fully decked out for the trip to Ayortha and further supplied by Dame Olga's household and the caravan but the weather was a daily ordeal for ourselves and our mounts. I fretted over the well-being of our horses, fearing damage to hooves or fetlocks from the ice and built up snow of the trail, but my care seemed to ward off injury as our mounts took to the trail with a will each day.  
My bodily discomfort led to other concerns, however. How was Ella, gone only a half day ahead of us, coping with the trials of the journey? My other question was, how was she staying so easily ahead of us.  
My second question was the easier of the two to answer and after we had been a full two days on the trail at our best pace, I felt justified in presuming that she had been able to make the passage though the mountains before the snowstorm. This seemed confirmed to me as we passed few used camps and those used very long before.   
The first question, though…  
My fear for her well-being felt like a heavy stone that I carried with me through my arduous days only to have it crush me as I lay down at night to sleep. Though the passage through the mountains had been described to me as brief, the caravan master had also said that it could be treacherous. In the winter, snow slides were common, burying men and beasts or carrying them to their death over cliffs. Wild animals were also ubiquitous in the lush valleys between the mountains and a maiden would make easy prey for a wolf or a roused bear. Most fearful to me were the supernatural concerns. Beyond the ever present danger of ogres, the mountains were also home to dwarves, who could be hostile to outsiders. Winter fae and goblins lurked in caves and the Lorelei was said to inhabit a pool in the upper reaches of one of the nearer mountains. My dreams were haunted with scenes of finding Ella only to see her brought down by one of a hundred different plights.   
As a result of my psychological burdens, my men and Mandy were faring the journey much better than I and the disruptions to my rest as well as the grinding pace, punishing cold and snow storms gave rise to a miserable illness which lingered through our second week of travel. I coughed and sneezed through the daytime and wheezed and shuddered through the nights.   
By the third morning of my sickness, I was delirious and unable to pull myself into the saddle and we had to lose a day's travel so I could rest. Mandy went off that day and came back with mysteriously gleaned ingredients which she concocted into a soup. It was delicious but seemed to have yellow hair floating in it. I tried to avoid the unappetizing bits but she gave me such a foreboding glare that I meekly choked them down. I was able to ride again the next day, but Mandy insisted that I drink various herbal mixtures that she conjured up for me at intervals. I felt much better in body after that point except for a persistent hacking cough but my spirit was still pressed by the weight of my concerns for Ella.   
Mandy too seemed preoccupied by her erstwhile charge and for long portions of the daily ride she would stare off into the distance, her bushy eyebrows drawn together in a pucker of concern.  
We lost several more days travel to inclement weather but we were fortunately able to find more substantial shelter before each snowstorm hit, once in a barn with a farmer's flock of sheep and once in an abandoned cottage. These times of idleness were very hard on me and I grew restless and irritable quickly when I was unable to continue on my way. I could see that my mood was affecting my traveling companions during these stops, but I was disinterested in the bickering and petty squabbles that broke out among our party, as they seemed an apt background to my own inner turmoil.   
Despite all of the problems and delays, we made good time to Drinnen and my spirits rose as we came to the top of a hill to see a scattering of farms and villages laid out before us, the outskirts of the kingdom. That night we were not forced to camp rough in the snow, but were welcomed into the graciously appointed manor of a Duchess of the kingdom.   
Bedraggled and frost burned wildmen we must have seemed to the servant who opened the door, but he leapt to action, all the same ordering warm drinks and attendants immediately upon our afternoon arrival. I had wanted to press on until dark but the prospect of a real bed in a heated room has tempted even my tortured soul into submission.   
Divested of our filthy snow-rimed outer garments we warmed ourselves at the hearth in the receiving room, drinking hot toddies and sampling delectable cured meats and candied fruits. Some of my men had stripped down to their hose in an effort to allay the chill and the smell from some of them was ripe, to say the least.   
Into this masculine fray strode a stunningly beautiful woman, almost without our noticing. As we stood, slowly rotating in front of the massive hearth to evenly toast all sides of our frozen carcasses, she appeared, taking a steaming goblet from a manservant and flinging herself negligently into a nearby armchair, her leg flung over one arm. Henry was the first to notice her presence and in typical undiplomatic form stated, "Oi, there's a lass there, boys."  
Alverston must have recognized her, even though I didn't and neatly plucked up a nearby throw cushion to cover his exposed chest before making a very elegant leg to the woman. I also bowed, not far behind him and managed to fasten a button on my shirt while making my obeisances.   
I allowed Alverston to do the talking as I chivied the staring men towards their discarded pants.  
"My Lady Almaviva, what a pleasure to see you again," I glanced over my shoulder to see that Alverston had taken up one of her bejeweled hand and was kissing the back quite ardently. A tinkling laugh spilled forth from the chair before the lady arose one more, stalking in a broad circle, seeming to inspect us all.  
"Alfie, what have you brought me," she purred in a silvery and softly high pitched voice. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was not wearing a dress like every other lady I had ever met when meeting guests, rather she was decked in a floor length robe, laced tightly at the bodice and edged in luxurious fur but open after the waist belt. Underneath she wore skin tight leather pants dyed a deep jewel toned red. As she stalked about us, I also perceived the clicking of her heeled boots as she passed off the carpets onto the marble floor.   
She was not in need of the heels to garner any height and she over topped several of my men and was nearly of a height with Alverston. Her height was further confused by her mass of curls, piled artfully atop her head in a heap of golden perfection.   
As we attempted to make ourselves decently robed for our exalted company, the lady went on, "no need to stand on ceremony, I do not begrudge you the warmth of the fire, please, be at ease. I shall not look, if you wish to play the modest maidens,"again the tinkling laugh and she ably hauled the huge chair around one handed and flopped back into its shadowed embrace. "So, have you come take up my offer, Alfie?" She called out if the depths of the chair.  
"No, my Lady. I had not thought to see you this season as I was to be in Ayortha for the year." He had swiftly rebuttoned his shirt and was making quick work of his pant lacings as he spoke and the other men were following suit, donning semi-warmed outer clothes.  
"You seem lost, my young friend. Ayortha is in a different direction," again a peal of silvery laughter, "I had thought you a better hunter than to run the wrong way down a rabbit trail." Alverston stiffened slightly at the gentle mockery but made a visible effort to hold his temper.  
"You will have to ask my Prince about the methods of tracking we use these days, my Lady. He will be much better equipped than I to explain our current trajectory."  
"Ah, so I have the honor of the presence of a prince in my home, do I? How delightful." She swiftly stood and walked out of the room without looking back at us, a string of orders pouring from her in a seemingly endless stream as she walked out the door without looking at us, shifting seamlessly into her singsong language. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Run, run...run, run, run! My inner voice urged me on, repeating my order on every halting step avoiding the horrifying images of the most recent past. Joshua's hate twisted face...Run...run, run, run. Benjamin's slack body….run, run, run, run...run. What Lisa might see, how she would scream…. Run, run...run...run. Georgie crying….run, gasp...run, run, run. I had long passed the only section of the valley I knew and was hauling my protesting body through the snow choked paths towards the end of the valley. Maybe there would be an exit there. Maybe I could get high enough up the side of the mountain to be "out of the valley". Feet sliding on the inclining way and lungs burning with the freezing air, I inched up the switchbacks towards what looked like a gap in the towering mountains. The light began to fail as the trees began to thin and I would fall down gasping in the snow at intervals, gaining only enough rest to be able to haul myself back to my feet.   
This was how I was going to die, running up the side of a mountain, unable to stop. Images of Benjamin's limp corpse in the snow assaulted me and I had to stop briefly to vomit off the side of the trail before I was forced onwards.  
I tripped over my own feet, falling hard into the snow and gasped and coughed, my head spinning. As I lay there for a moment, unable to move, I noticed lights coming on in the valley below me. Tiny pin pricks like fireflies in the summertime. Storm lamps, probably, to guide those lost in the coming blizzard I guessed. These lamps had probably saved lives but they would not save mine.  
Was my life even worth saving? Against my will my time living with Joshua and his children played back. Was I responsible for what had happened? Surely there was nothing I could have done differently...I tortured myself with visions of how I could have been rude to Benjamin, abrupt with Joshua, maybe saving a life with a curt word and a sneer.   
I began to cry and the tears froze my eyelashes and burned down my cheeks as I continued my killer march up the mountain. Some unknown amount of time later I noticed fat flakes of snow were beginning to build up on my cloak. So the forecasted storm was beginning. Idly I wondered if my exhaustion or the cold would kill me first.   
Unexpectedly my path leveled out and I stumbled and fell into the road. I had reached the pass through the mountains but there would be no passing here. The narrow passage which would allow access to the next valley in more clement seasons was choked with snow and ice to the height of five men. As I wearily gazed at the blockage I saw a goat path that went off at an angle from the larger main passage. As I staggered to my frozen and aching feet and continued ever upward, I wondered if I was considered to be out of the valley yet. Because of the ubiquitous presence of the command to run, I couldn't tell if the other order had lifted yet.   
This path was much slower to traverse as its narrow length traced the edge of a vast drop into the valley. Though the decrease in speed caused my complaints to start, my fear of falling off the cliff was stronger than the pain of disobedience. As I threaded my way along, I chanced a glance down into the valley and noted that the lights had multiplied, swarming throughout the mountain sided cup. I watched as lights converged and broke apart and wondered what was happening below. With horror for my naivety, I realised they were hunting me. Perhaps they believed me a murderess or had laws against being a harlot that would see me hung. Fear curdled my gut and froze my sweat slicked spine and I stumbled onwards, picking up my pace as much as my ravaged body could bear. As much as my treacherous path and exhaustion would allow, I would look down into the valley and watch the swarming lights. I watched as a group broke off and began to swiftly climb the switchbacks that I had so recently abandoned. The snow flakes began to thicken, sticking to every inch of my outer garments and weighing me down.   
Abruptly my path took a turn towards the bulk of the mountain and I stumbled as the path dipped down into a thickly treed hollow. I rolled a few paces before I was able to get my feet back underneath me and hauled myself up with the help of a slender but solid tree. When I was upright, I noticed that it was a sign that I had fetched up against and I caught sight of a word or two before I was forced onwards.   
Lover of languages as I was, I recognized the words at once as dwarven and my mind went to work on the meaning.   
As I stumbled onwards down the narrow path, very dark under the trees I puzzled out the second word I had glimpsed, "water". A strange thing to out in a sign, maybe it was a name of a place like water wood or the like. The first word puzzled me but the meaning tickled my mind. It shared a root word with "sleep" or "stand" which seemed contradictory. I barely registered that I had come upon a clearing as I stumbled onwards, "rest" maybe? It had an imperative ending, though.   
Just as I realized I was walking out onto a snow-covered sheet of ice, the meaning hit me, "Halt!"  
I slid to a stop, then collapsed in a heap as my shuddering limbs gave out underneath me. The tide of tears that I had managed to contain burst forth again and I sobbed and retched, bits of my sweat soaked garments freezing onto the unforgiving ice. I cried out in pain and despair as my legs shook in cramping agony.  
After a long while both my pain and my exhaustion subsided enough for me to prop myself up on an elbow and examine my surroundings. Though no moon showed through the snow heavy clouds above, an eldritch glow suffused the very air of the pocket valley illuminating the surface of the immaculate snow covered pond. Only my own halting footprints marred the surface. My body had cleared a wide swath of snow from the ice where I had fallen and by the weird light I could see a series of perfectly round pinholes in the glass-like surface. An unnoticed tear fell from my chin then, striking the ice, only to sink into it, burrowing like a worm through an apple. As I watched, mesmerized by the strange autonomy of my tears, the witch-light revealed a shape under the ice. Slowly, as I'd listing up from the depths, the shining ovoid resolved itself until I seemed to be staring into a face at rest. Dumbstruck, I gazed into that beautiful, terrible face trapped beneath the ice. It seemed to be a woman, very young, perhaps my own age, but she was the epitome of colorless beauty. The ice and the light of the clearing cast her flawless porcelain skin with a blue tint and the full rosebud of her mouth with a deeper blue hue. Around her petite form floated a cloud of misty, luxurious hair so pale it was also blued by the lens of the lake. Completely caught by that doll-like countenance, I held my breath and my tear bored ever onward through the inches of thick transparent ice, then struck that generous curve of cheek.   
In a sudden sweep of thick pale lashes, the massive eyes snapped open and they were not colorless orbs, but the complete black of a sucking void.   
I screamed long and hard, trying to push my leaden body away from that face but trapped by the order to halt. I struggled against the invisible bonds of my obedience in terror, thrashing like a rabbit in a snare and shrieking at the top of my voice. I screamed to the end of my breath and covered my eyes with my hands, blocking out that nightmare vision.  
"Oh, sweet child. Fear me not. I only wish to aid you." A rill of horror climbed up my spine with icy touch, then was gone. I uncovered my face to see the colorless figure from beneath the ice standing before me, black eyes considering me. "That's better, isn't it?" Her voice was multi toned as if disparate women spoke with one mouth. I nodded stupidly. Why had I feared her? She was so beautiful, angelic, even.  
"Rise, let me see you plainly." She beckoned and I got to my feet unsteadily. All my muscles cried in pain with cramping and soreness.  
"You are a sorry waif, aren't you?" She circled me slowly and when she came in front of me again she put out a long, white hand and petted my damp cheek. Her hand was so cold it seemed to stick momentarily to my wet skin and when it pulled back a single frozen tear adhered to her elegant digit. She gazed into that tiny cosmos, hunching over it like an animal might hunch over a morsel of food. Suddenly she arched, her back bent into an unnatural bow, hair trailing in the snow and her finger held outstretched to the sky.  
"Ah," she moaned in her multi toned voice. "So innocent...so much...pain. Like the lamb to the slaughter, you went to your undoing. Such...abuse, your people are so petty. Strong... emotions" With an ecstatic sigh she unbent, "delicious." She licked my tear from her finger with a too long tongue before resettling her gaze on me. Because I could feel no fear of her, I enjoyed her unnatural and alien grace.   
"There are men coming," she purred. "They want to take you away from me, but we can't have that. I will put you out of their reach until our compact is complete. Then," she smiled with surpassing sweetness, her black eyes crinkled to slits behind her round, youthful cheeks, "you shall be free of your pain, safe and loved forever."   
That sounded so nice, I was afraid of those men, they might punish me for Benjamin…  
"I'm so sorry, my lovely, you will have to climb just a little longer but I will help you." She glided towards me and I found she was much taller than I had thought. Caressing my face with her long, delicate hands she bestowed upon me a long and lingering kiss. As I hung suspended from her lips I felt my pain shooting from my limbs though my body and out my mouth into her. In its place a cold emptiness settled, but it was surpassingly sweet compared to the agony I had been suffering. As she broke the kiss, she sighed with deep contentment, running her icy hands down my cheeks.   
"Now go, my little sweetling. All will be well. You must take this track behind my pool up the mountain to a cave. There you will be cared for until our compact is completed."   
I took a hesitant step towards the track and found my limbs more supple and able than I had expected. Behind me on the switchback up the mountain I heard the approaching sounds of men and dogs and I began to run. The eldritch glow that had permeated the hollow suddenly dissipated and darkness closed around me as I made my way up the steep path.   
My newly invigorated body made quick work of the snow clogged path and as I reach a small landing with a shallow cave, I looked back to see men with bright brands enter the hollow of the pool below me. They milled about uncertainly as I watched before one man spotted my trail. Quickly I ducked into the cave, huddling my cold permeated body against the back wall as, terrified, I listened to their approach.   
I saw a bright burning brand gain the level of my enclosure, followed by the head and shoulders of a man. Was that Joshua? As he stepped onto the landing he peered into the gloom of the cave and shouted,  
"Ella!"   
But that was all I heard as I tumbled backwards into unrelieved blackness and rustling noises and mustiness closed about me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was in a blind panic as I rode into the courtyard of the palace, flinging myself from my foam speckled mount and dashing into the front hall. The hall seemed to stretch and twist weirdly as I ran towards my father's throne room at full tilt. Bizarrely, no servants or guards came between me and my goal and as I burst into the room, I was relieved to see people at last milling around the huge space. Courtiers thronged the tall airy room and as I strode past them, they all turned hugely grinning faces on me.  
“Sire, I must speak with you,” I entreated, bowing deeply at the edge of the dias steps.   
“Approach,” said a languid voice from above me.  
Startled, I glanced up at my father. He was seated in his throne, my mother was draped in a startlingly casual fashion over the arm of the chair and both were staring bemusedly at a young woman whose back was to me.  
“I wanted to speak with you privately,” I stated firmly as I quickly climbed the dias. I did not look at the young woman, so focused was I on my father.  
“Whatever for, anything we discuss privately will eventually by public…” he trailed off, he hadn't lifted his gaze from my fellow supplicant.   
Resolutely, I continued to ignore the woman, hoping to impress upon my father with my uncharacteristic rudeness the gravity of the situation.  
“Sire, it is regarding my marriage..”  
“Of course, of course,” he cut me off, “to Lorelei, of course.” He gestured to the woman next to me, never taking his eyes from her.  
“...to Lorelei, of course.” echoed my mother in a singsong.  
I turned to the woman, surprised and confused. “Who…” but the thought died on my tongue.  
The delicate, palid young woman seemed to emanate power, while simultaneously exuding absolute humility and maidenliness.  
“Of course,” I heard myself say, “to Lorelei.”

My fist clenched and I looked down at it, confused as to why I would make such a violent gesture in her presence. Slowly my clenched fist relaxed, was I forgetting something?  
“I am so happy you have returned, my Lord,” she chimed, dropping into a very low curtsy.  
“But of course, I would never keep you waiting,” I bowed low over her hand.  
“You will marry on the morrow, of course,” my father stated loudly, seeming to regain some of his vitality and impetus.  
“Marry, I will…” I stopped in horror, dropping the woman's hand, “No, father, I will not marry her, I am in love with another woman.”  
My father looked offended, my mother began to weep and the girl next to me tried to seize my hand again, but I shook her off.   
“I am leaving,” I announced, “and I will not return without my bride.”


	16. Chapter 16

I must have fainted. I guessed the momentary relief from my aches coming to an end had catapulted me into unconsciousness. When I regained awareness, I was buried to the neck in a warm viscous fluid and truly, deeply, comfortably warm for the first time in weeks. It was dark but not completely black and I could see murky shapes moving about me. Rustling and a musty smell permeated the air punctuated by an occasional grunt. I did not struggle against the goo, my weariness had not been relieved and I was not in any shape to fight or endure any further fear, so I just soaked. As I stewed, I began to recognize the noises around me as a language and my frozen brain began to work. I was sure it was dwarven, there had been two parrots at the menagerie who spoke dwarven phrases and my dictionary had a small section on dwarven syntax as well. That was how I had puzzled out the meaning of the sign, but I was by no means proficient in this language. 

A rustling near me took on new urgency and a softly glowing orb was uncovered to cast a stronger light on the proceedings. Then a language, though mangled, that I recognized very clearly; my own.

"My-ee daugh*phlegm*ter Ele-ee-anor." Some grunting and rustling, I caught the dwarven word for child.

"I-ee your fath*phlegm"er, Sir Peeeter of Frell," some more dwarven conversation, "command you to come at once to the-ee city-ee of Drinnen and arrive be*phlegm*fore the winter solstice," more excited chatter and Drinnen came up several times. I hardly noticed because I was trying to rise from my tub of hot liquid, my curse determined to walk my sorry corpse to Drinnen, wherever that was from here. 

"You may-ee take a-ee horse and any-ee supplies from my-ee dar*phlegm*ling Ol*phlegm*ga's house*phlegm*hold as well as a guard from her stable hands, I-ee will compensate her later. Travel Li*phlegm*ghtly, I-ee will send a man for your other possessions later." 

By this time, my weakly seeking foot had found a short series of steps to carry me out of the goo and I pulled my battered body up them with despair. One of the murky shapes, presumably dwarves, noticed my exit from the tub at that point and set up a ruckus of their grunting language, waiving their short arms at me to return me to the tub. 

"Please, just tell me to stay here," I pleaded brokenly. "I cannot travel to Drinnen." 

"You must go to Drinnen!" A pronouncement rang through the echoing room and everyone was silenced. A new, stronger light entered the room and I tried to cover my nakedness while simultaneously exiting the slippery tub. "Your father, head of your house*phlegm*hold has willed it." Excited chattering and grunting came from the small group of dwarves who had been the ones to begin reading my unopened mail. 

"I cannot go," I wailed as I began to walk unsteadily towards the door, "I will never make it before the solstice." One of the other dwarves had come into the glow of light surrounding the dwarf who was making pronouncements and grunted urgently to him as I hobbled forward.

"My-ee wife makes a point that you are injured and unable to make the journey-ee. We-ee will consider your plight. Remain in their care until we-ee have decided your fate." Gratefully, I sagged and might have fallen had strong dwarven arms not hauled me upright and returned me to the basin.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~Char

 

A day gone I had awakened in my guest chamber in the country manor of the Lady Almaviva, confused and befuddled by such a strange dream. I could clearly recall the face of a maiden my father had bid fair to marry me to on a single day's notice. I wondered at the dream and considered whether it might be an omen of things to come. Stubbornly, as I had in the dream itself, I put aside concerns about other women and focused my will on my quest to seek the Lady Ella. No other ladies need trouble me. This resolution regarding ladies and their entanglements lasted only until breakfast when the Lady Almaviva announced that she would be leaving her manor to travel to court for the winter season and she bid us wait a day in comfort so as to escort her. She swore solemnly that there was no eventuality that would cause our group to miss the solstice and, though I ground my teeth on my answer, I was unable to deny her request. So, in horrible, chafing idleness we spent a day of leisure in the great house as the lady's household made preparations for the journey and the court season. Alverston was in his element, thoroughly enjoying the role of honored guest and eventual male escort. My traveling companions were equally savouring the comfort after such a brutal journey, except for Mandy. She had been relegated to position of servant to our party, which she had not contested, but I could see that the delay also concerned her. She and I brooded, though I did so in supreme comfort and she did so while taking on some of the chores of the impending journey. 

As I readied for bed on our second evening in the house, Mandy swept in to speak with me privately, pulling the door closed behind her. "Sire, I am concerned about the Lady Ella. The servants here have not heard of her arrival as of yet and she should have arrived long before now. Any arrival such as hers should have been news in the city and country after so long, especially since the bridegroom is considered immensely eligible." She chewed a ragged nail, one hand on her hip as I paced the room, unable to continue to look at her concerned face. 

"Have we hared off in the wrong direction,?" I demanded, running my hands through my hair. "Did we miss news of her with her step-family, perhaps?" I stopped to regard her, "is there any way we can know what's happened, where she is?"

"I hope for all of our sakes that Sir Peter is hiding her somewhere so as to entice his friend. Keeping her mysterious while he cleans her up, or has gowns made or something of the like. Goodness knows she would not have been decked to wed a lord coming from Olga's manor." 

She cut off abruptly and I turned to her, striding over and gripping her by the shoulders, "what happened to her in that house? Why will no one be honest with me? I cannot fault her for failing to tell me of her servitude…" I cut off as she shook her head.

"The lady will tell you as is necessary, it is not for the likes of me to go telling her tales to you when I know not her will on the subject." Her mouth firmed and I knew I would get nothing more from her. I released her and sighed, running my hands through my hair irritably and continuing my circuit of the room. When I turned back to the door, I saw the last of her skirts as they swept through. She clearly had nothing more to say. 

The whole situation burdened me with new worries, not the least of which was my presence here in a foreign kingdom without the knowledge, blessing or protection of my father. Naturally I was aware of our diplomatic situations with all of our neighboring states, but I was still uneasy about my reception here given the circumstances. I paced longer but I had to stop and sit when a bout of coughing doubled me over. I decided bed was the best course, I had an early day on the morrow and traveling as well, then I could resolve my questions and doubts in person. 

I had thought that my fears and worries would keep me awake but no sooner had my head hit the pillow than my eyes slid shut and I was deeply asleep. 

 

I was in the reception room of the Lady Almaviva's manor, dressed for travel and awaiting my companions. I was draining a cup of small beer and licking the last crumbs of toast from my fingers before another soul entered the room. 

"Ah, there you are Sire." I turned to see a young woman attired as a lady sweeping a deep curtsy to me from the doorway. Quickly brushing crumbs from my doublet, I stood and bowed in return, murmuring a polite reply. As I straightened I took an involuntary step back, fetching up against the table as the young woman had somehow crossed the distance between us seemingly instantly and was mere inches from me. She was stunningly beautiful and as I caught my breath from the shock, a heady sweet perfume wafted from her. The scent was lightly floral but something about it caused my groin to tighten uncomfortably and involuntarily. 

"My Lady...I," I stuttered.

"My Lord, I have a confession to make to you," she spoke right over me, not looking into my eyes but rather affecting an air of down cast pleading. "I have spoken with the Lady Ella and she has decided to marry Lord Breitwulf. She has sent me to assuage her guilt as she is unable to travel away from her Lord." 

"You have spoken to Ella, she cannot have said such a thing…" I broke off, confused.

"She said many things about your most precious time together," now the maiden looked up at me sidewise, but still not meeting my gaze. "She said you are a very gentle lover and might help an unfortunate maid, such as myself?" I choked on that last, coughing mightily as my entire body burned with embarrassment, I was horrified, confused and extremely upset. What was going on? I had to speak with Ella, this second hand nonsense would not continue. Gently I tried to push past the girl but she took my hand and held it in both of hers, pressing it to her breast. 

"Oh, please my Lord, please help me as the Lady Ella said you might. I am in the depths of despair." She began to weep, huge racking sobs and I was momentarily distracted from my purpose. Trying to extricate my hand, I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, trying not to smell her intoxicating scent or notice her ample bosom pressed to my trapped hand. 

"You need not cry so, it will be well. I'm sure that as soon as I speak to the Lady, we can certainly resolve your problem, whatever it may be." I tried my best to be comforting and brotherly.

"Truly my Lord? You would promise to help me? The Lady said you would not fail me!" She released my hand only to set hand to my flies, making swift work of the knots there falling to her knees before me. I was shocked and as if by magic, my trews were about my ankles. I tried to cover my nakedness with my hands, but she grabbed me with a slim hand, running a firm grasp up and down my shaft. 

"Stop, what are you doing!?" I protested, trying to push her down but I could not budge her slender shoulders with all my might. Finally she looked me fully in the eyes and I saw that they her eyes were black voids, pits into which a man could fall forever, as she pulled my erect shaft into her sharply toothed mouth. She smiled wickedly as she began to suck me insistently. 

 

A blow to my leg roused me from a sound sleep, but I felt weak and drained and wakefulness was hard to seize. 

"My Lord," a frantic voice entered my fogged mind as I opened my eyes into what seemed hellish chaos. My bed curtains had been pulled half off the bed on one side and Kieran was standing there in his britches with no shirt on. Two maids were with him, both liveried and one with an iron poker to hand. The hearth fire was just a sullen glow, casting a red light into the room, but the other maid held up a tall candle in a shaking fist and the light wavered wildly. 

"What's amiss," I began but then I had to stop for a huge racking cough. I tried to extricate myself from covers and hangings but found myself weak and hopelessly entangled.

"My Lord, are you well, has she harmed you?" Kieran sounded shaken like I had never heard him before, even in battle with ogres. 

"Well, if she did me that blow to the leg, she nigh took it off at the thigh," I snapped, irritated with my own weakness and confusion. 

"No, my Lord, the phantom woman. She was...um…" he looked awkwardly at the maids who chattered to each other in their sing song language, nodding fearfully to one another, "well, it seemed as if she was…" he cut off again.

"Spit it out man!" I said with deep exasperation.

"Sucking your cock, my Lord. The phantom woman, I mean." A chill ran down my spine, I vividly recalled the dream I had been woken from. Kieran for his part blushed a furious crimson that extended well onto his exposed chest. "I don't speak their lingo, my Lord but I gather that one," he indicated the maid on the right, "was banking your fire and saw a glow from out of your bed curtains. Her companion was doing the same for my room but I was still awake and when she ran in and gabbled to her friend, well I thought somewhat was amiss so I charged after them." He shivered and seemed to notice his bare torso, crossing his arms over himself and vigorously rubbing his bare arms. "Well the first lass took up the poker and the second lass pulled the bed curtains down and there you were floating off your bed with a misty wench attached to your shaft! Well the lass with the poker whisked it at the wench and she shrieked and vanished and the poker went straight through and hit you in the leg. Then you fell back onto the bed," he finished lamely, still rubbing his arms. 

The maids were still chattering one to the other then they turned to me and the maid with the poker in very broken Frellan said, "eet vas de Lorelei! May Lord! You haff angered de Lorelei!" Her companion then burst into tears and fled the room. The maid who had spoken seemed made of sterner stuff and shouldered her poker, taking a post leaning on a wall where she could see through my deranged bed curtains. 

"What is a Lorelei, my Lord?" Kieran had paled. It seemed he was not a fan of the supernatural. 

"It's a sort of water spirit, I understand, that haunts a lake in the high mountains. She preys on unfaithful men and rapists and the like…" I trailed off at the horrified look he shot at me, "No!" I was offended, "I am no rapist and I have never been unfaithful! There is only one lady in my regard." I struggled again against my bed-bound circumstance and managed to extricate myself enough to sit on the edge of the rumpled mattress. 

"But my Lord, why would she attack you, then?" I shook my head.

"I don't even know why she has ventured from her lake, we are far from her territory as I understand it." At that moment Mandy and another serving woman burst into my room, officiously taking charge of Kieran, the maid and the detritus of the bed hangings. In short order, we all had calming, warming drinks, Kieran was wearing a shirt and the maid's poker had been exchanged for a curiously slim metal rod like a blunt knitting needle. Large men were standing on ladders in one portion of the room making swift repairs to the bed under another maid's sing song directions. Mandy had gotten the story from the maid in her own language then from me and Kieran. My story had involved a great deal of mumbling and blushing but she finally got the entirety of it, including the nightmare from the night before. Satisfied that she had all the details Mandy sat back in her seat, toying with another of the curious metal rods. As her cogitations stretched into long minutes, I began to get irritated. My normally even temper and endless good humor had been one of the tragic losses of this difficult and trying trip and I was tired nigh unto death of new complications. 

"Well?" I asked, "is it the Lorelei?"

"It most certainly is, she named herself to you in your first dream," Mandy answered but was still seemingly thinking of other things. "I can't imagine why she is troubling you, though." 

"What shall we do? Does the Lorelei not kill men in their sleep?" I asked, my voice coming a bit faster and higher that I would have liked.

"She does, but we shall not allow that." She seemed to come out of her reverie and clapped her hands together decisively. "It matters not why she has come, only that we keep you safe for the moment until we can solve the larger mystery." From her capacious skirt pockets, she pulled an assortment of oddments. Buttons of various sizes and shapes, lengths of string, seeds and nuts, a handful of dried berries, a threaded needle, a small copper ingot and half a biscuit. Picking through the litter, she ate the half biscuit straight off then began to sort through her various lengths of string, thread and yarn. She finally decided on a length of blue yarn and a length of leather cording that had also been dyed blue. The remaining oddments of dubious provenance were returned to her pocket.  Delicately she unwound a knot from the yarn then snipped it into two roughly equal lengths with her knife. Holding the lengths in her cupped hands so we could no longer see them, she whispered to them at length, looking into her hands on occasion as if listening and returned low voiced answers as if providing guidance. When she was finished, she set aside on the table two perfect circles of yarn, no knit or break showing anywhere. Swiftly she repeated the process with the leather laces until she had two circles of yarn and two of leather. She then stood ponderously and advanced on me with her circles, looping one on each of my limbs, while she continued to mutter over them. She then straightened and brushed herself off, surveying her work. 

"Yes, I think that will do for now. I'm off to bed and you should be too. Bonne will sleep on the trundle to ward you should anything go amiss." She nodded to the maid, who motioned at her with the metal rod and quickly arranged herself on a trundle pulled from beneath my newly repaired bed. Vaguely disquieted and faintly embarrassed, I examined my bindings, finding them far too tight to remove, not that I was going to try. The overall effect was odd and outlandish to me who had never been prone to wearing jewelry. It also whiffed of magic, an equally uncomfortable topic, which I hoped to avoid. Trying not to chafe at my unfamiliar accoutrements, I returned to bed as ordered, enjoying a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~Ella

 

The dwarves deliberated for some unknown length of time about my fate. I gathered that they were a deeply traditional people and also deeply patriarchal. They seemed to practice some form of polygamy as all of the dwarves who had attended me at the beginning had been wives of that same dwarf who had pronounced my initial judgement. His name was Wiligark and I gathered from pieces of conversation about me that I had showed up on his family's front doorstep. I also gathered that there had been a dispute with the men from the valley about how I was to be disposed of. The dwarves had decided that they need not concern themselves with the opinions of men and had shut them out of their mountain and refused to answer their hails until the storm had driven the men away. For my part, following my restorative slime bath, I was wrapped in warm garments and put to bed, where I was quite content to remain. At intervals one dwarf woman or another would wake me and feed me strange and pungent meals in the dark before I would fall back into deep sleep. I tried not to think about the men from the valley who might want to hang me, the possibility of walking to another kingdom to please my father or some other judgement waiting to fall on my from the dwarves. Instead, I avoided all thought with more sleep. 

At length one of the wives woke me and urged me to rise, dressing me in my own clothes, but softer, cleaner and more whole than they had been. She then presented me with the letter from my father as if handing me a holy pronouncement and led me to a part of the warren of tunnels beneath the mountain that I had not been to before. At a heavy wooden door she knocked timidly before scuttling away. I was deeply fearful by this point, concern for my fate churning deeply in my gut and my hands shaking as I clutched my mended skirts. 

"Enter." A voice came loudly through the wood and I jumped, my tightly strung nerves jangling. I pushed on the door and it swung open easily letting me into a much larger room. There was brighter light here than I was used to and I stumbled forward, completely blinded. A few steps into the new room, I stopped, rubbing at my streaming eyes and trying to get my bearings. Slowly, darker shapes resolved themselves into immense canopied chairs, twelve of them set in a semi circle around an open tiled floor. Above us, light spilled from what seemed to be a huge ceiling of white light. It was so bright to my dazzled eyes, I could not look at it directly. As my eyes adjusted, I could barely make out the hunched forms of dwarves seated well back into the shade of their massive chairs. It seemed only two chairs were occupied from what I could see. 

"Eleanor of Frell, daugh*phlegm*ter of Sir Peter of Frell?" came a voice from deep inside a chair to my right hand.

"Um, yes. I am Eleanor of Frell." I curtsied deeply. Manners mistress would have been so proud. 

"We have di-ee-scerned that you have be-ee-en bidden by-ee your father, the-ee head of your house*phlegm*hold, to travel to Drinnen and to arrive by-ee the-ee solstice," he paused, as if waiting for me to say something, then went on, "you have said you cannot obey your father. We find this a very-ee se-ee-rious allegation." Again he waited. This time I used his pause.

Curtsying again I temporized, "I would happily obey my father, however I am unable to travel to a place when I know not where it lies. I have also been told that the mountain passes are closed by the snow until spring."

"Do I-ee understand that you do not wish to disobey?" 

"Truthfully my Lord, I could no more disobey the orders of my father than I could fly." I said it baldly but enjoyed the irony of it being wholly truthful.

The other dwarf had said nothing up until this point but leaned forward at this juncture, his point of wiry beard thrusting into that merciless light as he gave forth with a stream of dwarven aimed at his compatriot. 

"My-ee fellow points out that the men of the valley-ee say you have been among them for some time, why-ee have you not sought to obey-ee your father in that time?" 

"I was unable to leave the valley as I was gravely injured in a fall, when I was able to travel once more my path was blocked." 

Very sternly the first dwarf thrust his head from beneath the canopy and I saw that I was Wiligark. This was the first clear view I had had of any of the dwarves and I was instantly fascinated. His face looked as if it had been pressed together out of polygons. Clear cut corners marked his cheek bones and chin and his brow was a flat ridge hanging over his eyes. His skin was greyish and mottled as if it too was made of blocks of similar colors pressed together. He almost looked as if he had been tiled. 

"In rea-ee-ding the correspondence from your father, he-ee has sought a marriage for you in Drinnen as a faithful and loving father must do for his daugh*phlegm*ter. We respect his striving on your behalf and will aid you to obey him and reach him in time for your nuptials." He then let forth with a stream of dwarven that was answered by his companion. Several additional spurts of dwarven following that seemed to be a judgement. Both dwarves rose from their chairs and left the room through separate doors, donning caps with wide floppy brims before exiting their canopies which made them seem to be huge brown mushrooms. Uncertainly, I stayed standing where I was, taking the opportunity to examine the room. It was then that I determined that the ceiling was in fact a glass dome to the sky as I noted a bird flying high overhead. The seemingly unbearably bright light was, in fact, a grey overcast. I marveled at the feat of engineering that must have been undertaken to erect such a huge glass roof.

As I began to wonder what was to happen now I heard a hiss behind me and saw a beckoning arm swing through the door I had entered by. I quickly obeyed that summons, delving back into the oppressive darkness. 

I felt queerly elated, I was summarily released from making any choices on my own behalf and though it was not what I might have chosen for myself, it was comforting to have the burden taken from me. I resolutely did not think of Char, presumably meeting beautiful maidens in Ayortha at this very moment. I also did not think of poor Joshua and his dead son. I thought about my child, who would be fed and get a chance to grow up and how I would not have to betray Char because of my curse. 

As I considered the consequences of the situation, I resolved to make the best of what I had been dealt and followed the dwarf maid through the darkness to my future.


	17. Chapter 17

In spite of my resolve to make the best of my situation, the thought of the journey I would have to make in such a short period was daunting. My curse was not pinching me at the moment because I hadn't received my next instructions, only a promise of help for my journey. There was simply no way I could reach this unknown place under my own power. So I was like a leaf on a stream, with no power to alter my course. I had one last meal with my judge's wives before the husband himself came to collect me. I gathered that, as the most accomplished speaker of Frellan, he had been put in charge of fulfilling his own judgement. He led me through winding lightless tunnels, his personal light medallion spearing through the enfolding blackness. I had never spent so much time at once in the dark, and my eyes strained for every glimpse of light. My sense of day and night had already been warped by my unorthodox sleeping schedule in this place and I was unable to determine whether our trek took hours or minutes or a whole day. All I knew was that when we stopped I was footsore and stumbling with tiredness. My guide had pushed open a massive steelclad portal and again I was overawed by much brighter light than I was used to. Lanterns had been bracketed to every wall and had the same glow as the pendant my guide wore. Cumulatively, their light was dazzling after the seemingly endless night of the tunnels behind us. By their light I could make out the forms of dwarves in crews bustling here and there. Large buckets slid to and fro on a gleaming metal track seemingly effortlessly.   
As I watched, one of the buckets came to a halt below us, bumping gently against a worn leather pad. From this vantage I could look down into it and saw that it was empty but for a small seat built into one side of the bucket. Wiligark led me down a ramp towards that bucket and I began to thrill with anticipation and fear at the thought of riding in such a vehicle. The single metal beam that the bucket rode on arched off beyond the current massive cave and I wondered how far it led.   
As we approached the bucket, I realized it was much smaller than I had first thought, sized for a dwarf, not a lanky human. My companion sized me and the bucket up and then proclaimed,  
"This will be-ee fine, you must keep your head lowered at all times while riding to ensure that you do not hit it." He nodded succinctly.  
He showed me how to open a door in the side of the bucket and showed me a series of lights on the front of the bucket. "The-ee-se ligh*phlegm*ts show your destination," he stated as he pulled a set of colored glass rounds out of a beautiful wood case and set them into brackets in front of the glowing lights. "I-ee am sending you to the-ee furthest northern exit from the mountain. From there it is only a short trip to the-ee capital city-ee." When he had finished slotting in the colored glass rounds he showed me a handle on the front of the bucket. "If you pull this, the-ee next waystation will pull you over so you can get out and stretch or use the-ee necessary-ee." He showed me how the handle levered the colored glass up and away from the lights, leaving them all clear.   
He then settled me into the cart and I crouched low as ordered. "Be careful, do not hang out of the cart or put you hands outside while it is moving. The-ee journey-ee will be a day or so long but you can slee-ee-p in the cart. When you reach the end, the dwarves there may not spea-ee-k Frellan, so I have written you a note." He handed me the message and I tucked it into my bodice next to my father's letter. "The-ee dwarves in the north are not so civilized as we-ee. Perhaps it is so much contact with men," his mouth became a mou of distaste, "but they should follow that instruction." Gently he tucked my ragged mended skirt into the bucket before firmly closing the door. "Be-ee sure to continue to obey your father in all things, he-ee knows best for you." He looked a little teary eyed, "rea-ee-d your letter, your father cares for you."   
Privately I thought he was reading a lot into this letter that wasn't there, but I obediently pulled it from my bodice and began to read. I got as far as 'My daughter Eleanore' before my cart gave a huge heave and hurtled off down the tunnel. I believe I gave an undignified shriek, but I soon had myself in hand. I quickly read the rest of the letter so that I could enjoy my cart ride, no easy task in the spotty lighting and jerking, fast-paced travel of the cart.   
'I, your father, Sir Peter of Frell, command you to come at once to the city of Drinnen and arrive before the winter solstice. You may take a horse and any supplies from my darling Olga's household as well as a guard from her stable hands, I will compensate her later. Travel lightly, I will send a man for your other possessions later. When you arrive, you will seek me at the palace as your soon-to-be bridegroom has graciously offered me lodging within the rooms of his household there. I have made an extremely profitable match for you and I expect your eager attendance as quickly as possible so that we can ensure you are finely decked for your wedding. Your bridegroom is to be Conar Breitwulf, commander of his majesty's army. and you may ask after his suite when you arrive.   
Heed me, Eleanor. I will not be disobeyed in this. If you do not arrive by the solstice, I will be most displeased. Sir Peter of Frell'.  
I tucked the letter securely back into my bodice feeling the eagerness that my father had ordered washing over me. It was mixed with enjoyment for this most interesting form of travel and a laugh bubbled up from my chest as the bucket picked up speed, flying into a gentle turn through a narrowing tunnel then out over a lake of dark water. The cool air of the tunnel whipped my hair into a streaming banner behind me as I crouched low in the bucket and excitement gripped me tightly. At intervals, I saw other tracks leading away from my own and passed dwarves standing on platforms next to massive levers. I assumed that these silent sentries were guiding my bucket on the correct path through the mountain and after the first few, I waved to them merrily as I flew down the tunnel. After a while my back began to ache at the low crouch I had been forced to maintain and I slid myself forward in the bucket so I could recline, laying my head against the side of the cart.   
I awoke with a jolt when the smooth ride of my bucket came to an abrupt halt and a gang of very serious dwarves hooked my bucket to a massive chain to be towed up a steep slope. This jolting halting progress was very different from the smooth ride so far and I began to feel queasy. There was no getting off here, though, and I could not see the top of the rise in the gloom of this part of the track. Eventually, my heaving stomach sent me leaning over the side of the bucket, making a mess alongside the shining track. I hauled out my handkerchief and wiped my sweating face then pulled the level for the next stop. I had to lean over the side of my bucket twice more before I gained the top of the slope and my bucket was ushered solicitously to the side by a pair of dwarves. When I had made use of the promised facilities, I was offered a flask of water and a round of bread, both of which I accepted gratefully before reboarding my bucket and gently returning to the main track. Now that I was back to the smoother ride I was used to, I felt much better and relaxed into an enjoyment of the ride again. I napped on and off, enjoying the rushing air and the gentle, nearly silent swish of my bucket as it flew through the dim tunnels. At one point I came out into a huge cave and could see other buckets stuffed with dwarves soaring by above me and alongside me. Twice more I had to endure the stomach lurching progress of one of those climbing chains and heaved up every morsel that I had eaten all day over the side of my bucket.   
After an unknown length of time, my bucket finally bumped to rest against a leather pad like the ones I had seen at the beginning of my trip so many hours before. I staggered stiffly out and was gruffly greeted with a spate of growling dwarven while being forcibly hustled away from the vehicle. I proffered the letter from Wiligark and the dwarf quickly read its contents, still pulling me away. Behind me, angry voices were raised as several dwarves with bundles tried to enter my cart at once. I heard a crying baby somewhere and the arguments ratched up a tone. My guide spoke briefly to a nearby group of dwarves who seemed to be in charge of this chaos and I heard Wiligark's name several times pass from dwarf to dwarf. There was a stir at the back of the group and I was ushered aside by a very small female dwarf as the others went back to their tasks and my guide waited impatiently.  
"You have come from my fa*phlegm*ther?" She said in a low voice, her Frellan barely accented. No wonder Wiligark had teared up watching me go, he had sent a daughter away north already.  
"Yes, I must make my way to Drinnen before the solstice."  
"Yes, that was in the letter," she interrupted, "did he-ee have any-ee further instructions? Besides what was in the letter I-ee mean." She looked eagerly at me, tension lining her nose and mouth but I shook my head and her small face fell. She turned away from me and I thought I saw tears glittering in the dim light of the passageway. Without another word she walked away from me to join the crowd trying to climb aboard any arriving bucket, not turning back when I called for her to wait. I noted through the gloom that she had a bundle strapped to her back from which peered the solemn face and glittering eyes of a dwarven baby.   
Unsure how to proceed, I turned back and was seized again by the elbow and propelled from the crowded landing. We entered what seemed to be a communal dining room but in contrast to the orderly bustle of such a place in Wiligark's domain, there seemed to be a riot going on. Dwarves were pushing and brawling to try to gain the same rounds of bread and flasks of drink that I had been freely given on my previous stops. My guide pushed me forward, using my superior height to cut a swath through the milling bodies, then we grabbed bread and flasks and he pulled me out again.  
We exited into a corridor and I frequently had to press myself to the side to avoid dwarves hurtling down the tunnels.   
My guide seemed to speak no Frellan but he kept up a running commentary as we continued down the crowded corridors. My understanding of dwarven, which had not been strong to begin with, could not handle the changes caused by the regional dialect and I only caught a few words and Wiligark's name. He led me deeper though the warren of twisting tunnels. I had not realized how fastidiously clean the other dwarves' home had been until I came to this place. Some side passages stank of decay or garbage and I regularly caught sight of rats and bugs in the dim light that the dwarf bore. As we pressed deeper, the crowds thinned out until only the dull roar of dissent gave the lie to our solitude. I was tiring quickly and noted that my legs were weary, token, I thought, of an upward trajectory. At length we were passed by several groups of dwarves armed to the teeth and marching in step. My guide pressed me into niches to keep me out of their way as they passed. The whole scene seemed oddly surreal and through my curse-enforced eagerness, fear was rearing its ugly head.   
We continued upward until we reached a heavily reinforced door. No dwarven legions had passed us for some time and the sounds of chaos had long since been lost to distance. Instead of pressing through the door as I had expected, the dwarf turned to me, handing me a bundle of cloth containing the bread and flasks we had gained below. He rattled off a spate of dwarven, then seeing I didn't catch anything he sighed and pointed to the door and said with exaggerated slowness, "Drinnen!"   
Even then he didn't immediately throw the door open but stood behind it, pressing his ear to the center, listening carefully. As we waited in the silent gloom, I began to make out what sounded like shouting outside and a sudden boom shook the floor, making us both stagger.   
When the tremors ceased, my guide turned away from the door looking terrified. He pointed at the door and shouted, "Drinnen! Drinnen!" Before hightailing it back down the corridor.  
I was absolutely terrified at this point, fear and eagerness forcing my stomach into a slow roll, but I knew where Drinnen was now and my curse knew my orders.   
I tucked my food and drink into my blouse and set my shoulder to the heavy door. 

~~~~~~~~~Char  
The morning dawned fair and bitterly cold, the bright sunshine blazing on the fresh snow coat. The injury to my leg had purpled and swollen in the night to a huge knot above my knee and I gritted my teeth as I pulled on my trews.   
The maid Bonne had stayed only long enough to see that I was truly awake then had stowed the trundle and gone about her day. I had not seen her since I awoke to her standing over my bed with her thin rod at hand. It had been a startling sight and I had swallowed down a shout of fright before recognition set in.   
The house was in an uproar as I descended to the dining room, a slight limp marring my usually steady gait. Servants of every station ran to and fro with bundles, packages, luggage, and food. After my dream of the night before I was pleased to find the dining room occupied with my companions and no strange women in attendance. We broke our fast with a will and gathered in the entryway, joining our baggage and the swiftly mounting pile of the lady's household accoutrements for what would be a months-long sojourn to the capital.   
Our comparatively meager belongings were swiftly stowed but equally swiftly, an army of staff winnowed the mountain of baggage in the hall, attaching it to pack beasts prepared for the purpose.   
We lingered in the hall, not wanting to brave the cutting cold before time. No sooner was the last box carried from the entrance then the lady herself appeared, stunningly beautiful in a floor length fur robe of spotless white, her artfully curled hair spilling out from beneath a conical fur hat and white leather gloves peeking from the full sleeves. She glided out of the hall into the dazzling light and we followed obediently, truly her entourage in that moment.  
I had been expecting a carriage for the lady as would have been the practice back home and had dreaded the slow pace required for such a conveyance but the lady took her place at the head of the column of staff and baggage on a beautiful mount, iron grey dappled with white. We mounted adroitly, me with only a slight wince and favoring of my injured leg, and the train wheeled out of the courtyard at a decent pace.   
As I had expected, Alverston and I were ushered to the head of the party and flanked the lady on the road, he providing witty anecdotes and entertainment, while I tried not to brood on my concerns and attempted to mask my inner turmoil. While they laughed and chatted about court and gossiped about officials and nobles I mastered my compulsions to urge my mount forward to a quicker pace. The lady seemed particularly occupied with a certain commander of the King's Army, Conar Breitwulf, and spoke at length of his prowess in battle, handsome face and extensive wealth.

After several hours riding I noticed that Mandy had come up behind our trio and seem to be listening intently. She subtly signaled to me to fall back and I did so pulling my horse alongside her smaller mount.   
"Conar Breitwulf that the lady thinks so highly of is the man that Sir Peter has offered Ella to." She looked tense. I felt my attention hone in, coming back from the nebulous anxiety I had been indulging.  
"He does not seem like the sort of man who would be forgiving of a bride being offered then taken away." I opined, thinking back to the odd comment from the lady's chatter that had penetrated my distraction.  
"No, I do not think so. I believe this was a man that once came to visit Sir Peter shortly after he was married to my lady's mother. They had met each other years earlier during some sort of military training exchange between Drinnen and Frell. I remember him being a jovial man but…" she hesitated, "he was brutal with his own staff and ours." I saw her swallow and felt my own mouth grow dry but she wasn't finished, "this would have been disgraceful even from a Frellan, though it is not unknown in our country either; I just kept the staff as much out of his way as possible. My larger concern was how he treated my lady's mother. She was still a very young bride at that time and had not yet borne Ella to Sir Peter. Whenever Sir Peter wasn't looking or left a room Breitwulf took every opportunity to make lewd glances and lecherous comments. When my lady's mother was unresponsive to him he became angry. He began to refuse to speak if she was nearby, isolating her from her husband throughout his entire visit. He made rude and snide remarks about her appearance, intelligence, and womanliness. I told my lady's mother to make sure she was never alone with him and she took my counsel, otherwise I fear he would have harmed her in some way."  
A cold knot of fear settled into my stomach. "What is Sir Peter thinking handing his only daughter over to such a man?" I railed quietly, keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard.   
Her mouth twisted in an unpleasant grimace, "Sir Peter has always been short sighted when it comes to his purse." She shrugged helplessly, her heavy muffler rising and falling in a defeated gesture.   
Mandy maneuvered her mount back into the crowd behind us and I retook my place at the Lady Almaviva's side catching the end of a ribald joke from Alverston. The lady chuckled richly and I took the opportunity to jump into the conversation.  
"Lady, tell us more about your Commander Breitwulf. I hear he has recently become engaged."   
She looked sharply at me, "how would you know such a thing," she snapped her fingers, realization dawning on her face, "but of course, that money grubbing merchant is a Frellan, is he not?"  
"Sir Peter? Yes, he is one ours," I confirmed, internally cringing at the vitriol.  
"None of the ladies at the court with whom I correspond regularly have seen the woman yet, though her father is said to be very charming and a great friend to the commander, he is married to the commander's cousin Olga, as you would know," she sneered tightly, "it is also said he would be willing to sell his own mother's teeth to a dwarf even if he had to pull them out himself."   
I had heard similar accounts of Sir Peter's avarice, not the least of which was this most current betrothal of his daughter.  
"Several of the ladies are very distraught over the match, thinking to retrieve some of that wealth for themselves," Almaviva continued, "but they are perhaps naive and better off this way. It is generally considered that the commander is perhaps barren, or maybe that he just beats his wives too often for their pregnancies to last." She said this last conspiratorially, glancing at myself and Alverston coily from beneath her long golden eyelashes and plush fur cap. "But, of course, you Frellans are all much too mild mannered to beat your wives, or so I've heard," she quirked an eyebrow at us and I saw Alverston's skin flush.   
This was too close to his father's reported proclivities for his comfort, so I cleared my throat to gain her attention,  
"We do have laws in Frell to prevent that sort of thing, though it does still occur, sadly." She gave a pragmatic shrug before continuing onto a story about a friend of hers who had had a particularly brutal husband who had died following a series of unfortunate circumstances which I did not hear, dropping back into fear and despair an Ella's behalf.

In the middle of a spirited discussion that I had not been listening to, the lady turned to me, "...but of course, you have a predisposition towards lesser races in Frell." Startled out of my preoccupation, I scrambled to try and piece together what their discussion has been about. Misinterpreting my pause for potential disagreement the lady continued, "does your father not have some sort of peace treaty with the elves? And of course the gnomes. Filthy, grubbing animals like our dwarves here, are they not? At least he has the sense to treat ogres like the disgusting beasts that they are and put them down wherever they are found, like rabid hounds." Cooly she regarded me waiting for my response.   
"It is true that I have hunted ogres myself, my lady, but they are not animals. That is why they are so dangerous; they are clever and also have some small magics," I temporized. I thought of the elves I had met both before this trip and during it, all of them were clean, civilized, charismatic and clever. Similarly, the gnomes I had met were kindly, intelligent beings with a deep and abiding love for family. They lived in tight-knit clans like humans, only those clans lived under hills instead of on top of them. The lady sniffed disdainfully turning back to Alverston, who, for his part looked deeply uncomfortable.   
Trying to clear up some of my confusion, Alverston added helpfully, "the lady was telling me that they were having difficulty with some dwarven clans in the mountains. Apparently, some mining has been taken over and previously unprofitable mines have produced untold wealth under the dwarven management. Foul play is suspected."   
"Foul play is an acknowledged fact when dealing with filthy, thieving dwarves. Never has The Cavern created such disgusting and greedy creatures as dwarves," the lady put in, unperturbed as if she was reciting a litany of known facts, rather than what seemed to be a bigoted tirade. Both Alverston and I failed to answer, struck dumb by the unexpected condemnation of another species.   
I recovered first, subtly showing a quelling hand to Alverston behind the lady's back. I knew from my training in statecraft and study of the history and culture of our neighboring kingdoms that Drinnen, with its seemingly impenetrable walls of mountains had become somewhat isolationist and beholden to an extremely strict religious fervor. The tenets of the religion spoke of the primacy of humankind, vilifying other intelligent races as animalistic and immoral. Diametrically opposed were the creatures of 'The Cavern', dwarves presumably, and the creatures of 'The Craig', mankind. Although I had been intellectually aware of both the faith and the attendant bigotry, encountering it in person and the accompanying fervor had been shocking to me and my foreign sensibilities.   
"I am sure that the king will take all necessary steps to ensure that both parties are treated fairly and equitably," I opined diplomatically.   
"Oh, I know that he has. I heard only recently that he had Breitwulf send a detachment of the royal guard to a mountain village which has recently become infested with dwarves. They took over the empty mine shafts and then had the audacity to try and sell rubies to the local Lord," she scoffed, "Breitwulf even hauled a catapult up the side of the mountain. If he has to bring down an avalanche he will bury those heinous creatures in their own holes. Breitwulf is not a man to be trifled with." She looked extremely satisfied then quickly and unselfconsciously changed the subject to ask Alverston about the current musical trends at the Frellan Court.  
The thought of using siege engines on a civilian population made me feel slightly ill and I wondered again what sort of man this Breitwulf was and how I was going to deal with him.


End file.
